


The Artist and the Faker

by Agitated_Animator



Category: Fate/EXTRA, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 23:18:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2365694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agitated_Animator/pseuds/Agitated_Animator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally posted on fanfiction.net.</p>
<p>When the Einzberns summon a different Servant for the 5th War, Shirou Emiya winds up summoning the Red Saber from Fate/Extra. With this Servant by his side, Shirou's in for a Grail War unlike any other. Done as a response to The Infamous Man's challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Strange Summoning

 

* * *

Kiritsugu Emiya stared at the beautiful moon. Though the curse that plagued his body had robbed most of his vision, he could still make out the shining loveliness of the pale moonlight. It held the same ethereal beauty as his beloved wife, Irisviel. No matter how much of his vision was claimed by the darkness, Kiritsugu would always know this light.

“Dad,” his adopted son asked, “is something wrong?”

“No, Shirou,” he responded. “Just thinking of my wife.”

“Your wife?” the boy asked in confusion. In the five years since Shirou had been adopted, his father had never mentioned having a wife. Sometimes Shirou heard the man talk in his sleep, half-delirious from his fever dreams. He would mumble what seemed to be a barely understandable apology to someone named Iri.

Shirou, contrary to popular belief, was not an idiot. He could tell that his father was getting worse. The twelve year old was scared that Kiritsugu didn’t have much time left.

The former Magus Killer smiled fondly as memories filled his head. “Her name was Irisviel von Einzbern and I lost her in my quest to be a hero.”

“You wanted to be a hero?” the redheaded boy asked, intrigued.

Kiritsugu nodded weakly. “I did. But being a hero’s tough. Once you become an adult, you learn how hard it is to save everyone.”

The boy smiled at his sick father. “Well, I’m still a kid, so if you’re too old, I’ll become a Hero of Justice in your place!”

He meant it too. Shirou had always admired his father for saving him. He knew that he should have died in that fire five years ago. It only seemed to right to he young boy that he dedicate himself to others. He wanted nothing more than to feel the joy he saw on his father’s face when he pulled Shirou from the ashes of the Great Fuyuki Fire.

Kiritsugu wanted to say something, tell his son how impossible it was to save everyone and keep your ideals. But he couldn’t. Shirou seemed so hopeful and happy. He couldn’t take that away from the boy. Instead, he thought of all the good Shirou could try to do in his lifetime; it was only natural. All parents envision the amazing things their children could someday do.

Unfortunately, it was also natural for a parent to wonder what could go wrong. The Holy Grail War would never happen again, he’d seen to it himself. The explosive charges he’d placed along the city’s leylines would destroy the Greater Grail system before the 60 years needed to recharge its mana. But if anything went wrong, Shirou could be caught unprepared. Kiritsugu prided himself as a man who was always prepared for the worst. Which meant it would be hypocritical to not worry about this plan failing as well.

Shirou needed to know, no matter how unlikely another war was, the boy needed to know.

With a wheezing cough, Kiritsugu put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Shirou,” he said, his voice growing weaker by the moment. “If you want to be a hero, then you might need to be prepared for a war someday.”

“Huh?” was all the young magus could respond with.

“Someday, when you’re older,” he said. “You may need to participate in a war between mages and their Servants. If you want to be a true Hero, then you’ll need to summon a Servant as well.”

“How do I do that, Dad?” Shirou asked, worried. “I’m not a very good magus.”

Kiritsugu smiled at Shirou and placed his palm against the boy’s chest, feeling the strength and warmth of his pulse. “Shirou, you’ve got everything you need, right in here.” He smiled at his son, his vision growing dark.

Shirou, touched by his father’s encouragement nodded enthusiastically as placed his hand on Kiritsugu’s. “I’ll do it dad. You don’t have to worry. I’ll be the hero Fuyuki needs if a war happens.”

“That’s good, son,” the Magus Killer smiled. He looked back up at the moon, which he could no longer see. “Your father’s very tired, Shirou. I think I’ll take a rest.”

He lowered his head and closed his eyes, a smile on his face. The last thing the man would ever see was the look of hope and determination in his son’s eyes as he inherited the man’s ideals. Kiritsugu died, finally at peace.

* * *

 

Four years later, an interesting mental debate was being held in a certain castle in a frozen German forest.

Jubstacheit von Einzbern, the eighth head of the Noble Einzbern Family, sat in his grand workshop, deep in thought. The old man knew a Grail War was coming, he could feel it for years now. Illyasviel had been selected to be their representative in the rapidly approaching Fifth Grail War. The only question left was what Hero she should summon as her servant.

Their last two choices had failed them. Neither Angra Mainyu, the God of Darkness, nor the legendary King Arthur had been able to attain the Grail for the Einzberns.

Though perhaps in the last case, the problem was the Master, not the Servant. After all, most accounts they had gathered indicated that Saber had in fact been one of the last Servants standing before Kiritsugu betrayed them all.

Perhaps the King of the Britons would fare better under the control of a pawn Jubstacheit could control. After all, Ilya had more mana than any magus alive. A Saber under her command would be unbeatable.

The old man of winter smiled; he had an artifact to find.

* * *

 

Bazett Fraga McRemitz stared in a combination of confusion and awe at the sight before her. When the Irish magus received her Command Seals, her old acquaintance Kirei Kotomine recommended that she summon her servant as soon as possible and come meet him.

Without further ado, the young Enforcer performed the ritual without a catalyst. Her family was descended from Celtic Divinity, there was no catalyst better than the blood in her veins. Her goal had been to summon her hero and idol, Cú Chulainn so she could save him from the tragedy that was his legend.

Standing before her was a tall, red-eyed, wild looking man with dark blue hair pulled back into a ponytail. He wore tight, blue leathery armor, but something seemed off about the way he wore it. It seemed that the outfit was designed to be as aerodynamic as possible, yet the Servant’s muscles seemed to twitch beneath the fabric in a strained manner, as if eager to explode in a wild frenzy of motion.

The Servant locked eyes with her, a barely contained sense of chaos and excitement in his crimson eyes. He flashed a positively feral smile as he said in a growling voice, “Servant Berserker. Are you my Master?”

Bazett smiled. She had summoned her beloved Cú Chulainn. There was no way she could lose now.

If only the poor woman knew what she had just gotten herself into.

* * *

 

Kirei Kotomine was not happy. Granted, this was hardly a new thing for the “Fake Priest” considering the bulk of his life had been spent miserable and empty. Though that had changed ten years ago when he discovered the joy that could be had by making others as miserable as he was.

But tonight, the priest was not a happy man. Nor was he a particularly uninjured man for that matter.

His attempt at killing Bazett had not gone as planned. The moment Kirei began materializing his Black Keys, Bazett’s Berserker materialized from his astral form and attacked. It was all he could do to survive long enough for the Irishwoman to call off her Servant. Thankfully the foolishly trusting girl hadn’t seen him do anything to provoke Berserker and thus blamed it on the mild Mad Enhancement placed upon her Servant. Thus Kotomine left the girl alive, her trust in him mostly intact.

Kirei limped back to his parish, his badly broken arm in a sling and probably suffering from a concussion. He entered his private study in the back where the glorious form of a man in golden armor stood, looking at him expectantly.

“I’ll take it things didn’t go well,” said Gilgamesh, the legendary King of Heroes, in a condescending and bored tone. The arrogant, mocking smirk he gave the priest would have frustrated anyone but Kotomine, who was so empty inside that insults and condescension had little to no effect on the man.

“It seems we will need a different Servant if we wish to proceed,” the priest said, straightening himself as he addressed the golden king.

Gilgamesh sighed, already somewhat disappointed at how quickly the priest’s plan was unraveling. “Fine,” the former servant said with a bored sigh, “I shall help you, this time.”

Kirei smiled. There were still other Masters he could exploit and steal from. Being the moderator of the Holy Grail War had its benefits after all.

* * *

 

Shirou Emiya stared in wonder at the sight before his eyes. On the school grounds, two men battled at speeds unheard of. To say he could see the men would be a bit of an exaggeration, since they appeared to be nothing more than a blur of red and black clashing with a blur of purple.

Shirou, not wanting to die, tried to slowly back away before these monstrous warriors noticed him effectively spying on their battle. Unfortunately, his foot took that wonderful opportunity to crush a twig with a loud snap.

The combatants stopped, giving the boy his first clear look at the two men. One was a tall, tanned man clad in black and red armor. The other was an man dressed in an elegant purple samurai-like garb. The warriors stared at him with witheringly intense gazes. Under the pressure of those stares, Shirou did what any Hero of Justice would. He turned and ran with everything he had.

It was not enough. After only about a minute, a purple clad samurai appeared in front of the high school student. He held an incredibly long, beautiful katana in his hands.

“Sorry,” the samurai said with a polite smile. “But this war is to have no witnesses.”

Before Shirou could even react, the young magus had been sliced across the chest by the man in purple. His vision grew dark as his assassin vanished into thin air.

* * *

 

Ilyasviel von Einzbern frowned. The homunculus had been living in her family’s secret Japanese castle for nearly a month now. Considering how excited she had been to be out from under her grandfather’s watchful gaze for the first time in her life, Ilya was disappointed in how little of the foreign country she had seen so far.

Standing behind her, ever vigilant, was a blonde young woman in an armored blue dress. In her hands was an ornate silvery lance that gleamed in the moonlight.

“Lancer,” Ilya sighed, “what is it, now?”

Lancer straightened herself as she addressed her diminutive Master. “Master, I know you want to explore, but it far too dangerous.”

Ilya had heard this speech dozens of times over the past month. “Please get to the point,” she said with some annoyance. She was not happy with Lancer. Neither was her grandfather for that matter. It seemed that because of the artifact used to summon the knight, the Servant wound up as a Lancer instead of the Saber the family wanted.

“You could go exploring if you allowed me to go with you,” Lancer stated simply. “The Servants are being summoned. It is only a matter of time until the war officially starts.”

“I know,” the white haired girl responded. “But I couldn’t care less about the Grail. There’s someone I want to meet first."

Lancer nodded reluctantly. It was her duty as a knight to help her Master, even if the girl wouldn’t share her goals or thoughts with the Servant. But this was nothing new to Arthuria Pendragon. It was amazing how similar Ilya could be to her father.

* * *

 

Pain. That was the only thought going through Shirou Emiya’s head as he entered his home. He had awoken on the ground, dazed, confused and feeling as if heart had been torn to shreds. A discarded gem lay on the ground near him when his eyes opened. The young magus pocketed it, intending to find its owner and return something so clearly valuable.

The words of his would-be killer echoed in Shirou’s head.

_‘Sorry, but this war is to have no witnesses.’_

Shirou knew this could be no ordinary war. As unlikely as it was it seemed, it was clear to Shirou that the war his father had spent his last breaths warning him about was finally happening. He had to do something to protect the thousands of non-magical citizens in Fuyuki City. How could he claim to be a Hero of Justice if he did nothing to stop a war happening in his own backyard.

Knowing he had to do something, but not knowing what, Shirou went the shed in his backyard where he kept his workshop as a magus. He stared at the incredibly limited number of supplies at his disposal, some old power-tools, a toolbox, a few objects he had tried to Reinforce, and a small collection of notes he had written about his attempts at Reinforcement and Structural Grasping.

Really, Shirou had no idea how to “summon a Servant” yet alone know what that even precisely meant. The teen knew that some skilled magi had various familiars under their control, but he had never heard of them being used for a war.

Shirou knew that he was a third rate magus at best, but a part of him had always hoped that if and when the time came, he’d know what to do. Kiritsugu had encouraged and believed in the boy and now he couldn’t even figure out how to keep his city safe.

“How odd. It seems master was right, you _are_ alive.”

A voice behind the redheaded teen snapped him out of his thoughts. Thinking fast, Shirou grabbed the Reinforced crowbar off his workbench and spun around, deflecting what would have been a lethal sword strike.

The purple clad samurai smiled at him. “I’m impressed you blocked that. You may become a fine swordsman someday. Or at least you could have.”

He slashed at Shirou, the force of the blow knocking the crowbar from his hands and slamming the teen into the wall.

 _‘So, this is how it ends,’_ the teen thought as the samurai closed in on him. He was going to die without ever saving a single person or fulfilling his father’s dying wish. _‘No,’ he thought. ‘I can’t die yet!’_

In a fit of desperation, every magic circuit in the teen’s body flared as the sword came down. Suddenly, a blinding light filled the room. Shirou clutched his hand in pain as he felt the skin on the back of hand split open and start to bleed.

One of the truly interesting things about Shirou that neither he nor his attacker knew was that he did indeed have everything he needed inside himself to summon a servant. The entirety of his magecraft was focused around swords. They were a part of his very soul. Even within his body itself, was a potential summoning catalyst; it too was sword related. If only the hero associated with the artifact hadn’t already been summoned. As if sensing the call of the artifact within Shirou’s body, but unable to answer it, the Holy Grail responded by pulling a similar hero from the Legendary Throne of Heroes instead.

When the light cleared, a beautiful blonde girl in a red and white military style dress stood in the fading light of a summoning circle. In her hand was an oddly shaped, overly-large dark crimson sword. Shirou and the samurai stared at the girl in confusion, too stunned by the sudden change of events to move.

The blonde opened her bright green eyes and locked gazes with the cornered magus. She smiled haughtily at Shirou and said “It seems I shall be granting you the privilege of being my Master.”

Somehow, Shirou knew his life would never be the same.


	2. The Girl in Red

* * *

Shirou stared in confusion at the small girl holding a sword nearly as long as she was tall. He and the purple samurai blinked in unison, quite confused.

Breaking the awkward silence following the girl’s appearance was the purple-clad swordsman. “No way,” he whispered in disbelief as he looked back at Shirou. “You’re a Master?”

“Well that answers that question,” the girl said quite happily.

Before either Shirou or his attacker could point out that she didn’t ask a question in the first place, the blonde girl charged forward. The clang of steel meeting steel echoed throughout the shed as she slammed her odd looking blade against his elegant one.

A rapid exchange of blows followed. It was obvious to Shirou that the purple swordsman was the more skilled of the two. His every movement conveyed a sense of grace, tranquility, and precision, even as he fought with the intensity of a life-or-death situation. The girl in red’s attacks flowed with the rhythm of a dance - every slash a different note and conveying a different tone. While she seemed less skilled and precise than the impossibly graceful samurai, it was obvious the man had more than met his match in terms of raw physical strength.

After a rapid exchange of almost musical clangs, the girl shifted her footing and swung at the swordsman’s head with incredible force. He blocked the strike, but was knocked out of the shed by the sheer force of the blow.

The girl crouched down to examine Shirou. “Are you all right, Praetor?” she asked in concern.

He slowly stood and dusted himself off. “Yeah, thanks to you,” he said, still very confused.

The short blonde smiled and stuck her chin up, as if attempting to somehow seem taller. “You may praise me for my magnificence later. Make haste, for we have a fight to finish.”

She dashed out of the shed and attacked the samurai again, Shirou right on her tail. The blonde and the swordsman briefly locked blades and stared deeply into the others eyes, as if searching for a weakness. As if on cue, the two broke apart from their battle, landing on opposite ends of the yard.

“Tell me who you are,” the tiny girl said, as if it was a command of the highest order. “You fight like a Saber, yet that cannot be, for there is no way someone of my grand stature could be anything other than this war’s Saber.”

The man inclined his head slightly, nodding in agreement. “I am Servant Assassin.”

The girl, Saber, hardened her gaze and turned to Shirou. “Praetor, run for cover. Assassin specializes in killing Masters!”

Shirou didn’t respond. He refused to leave the girl who had saved him to face this Assassin alone. Saber deflected another blow from Assassin, before taking her right hand off the massive blade and yanking Assassin’s long ponytail.

“What the-?” Saber whacked him in the face with the pommel of her blade, silencing him.

Before the Servant could react further, Saber tugged hard enough to pull the swordsman from the ground and into the air. With strength far, far greater than a girl her size should logically possess, Saber spun Assassin around by his long hair and flung him from the yard and outside the Bounded Field surrounding the Emiya estate.

Shirou stared in slack-jawed awe at the nearly comical sight of it all.

Saber turned to him, smiling and bowed like a performer at a curtain call. “You may go back to praising me now, Praetor,” she said with glee.

“W-who are you?,” was all Shirou was able to ask.

The girl smiled nobly and winked, as if she viewed herself as some sort of prince trying to woo a damsel or an actor trying to get the crowd to cheer. It made no sense to Shirou why she would act like this.

“I am the magnificent Saber, your Servant in this Holy Grail War,” she said with an overly dramatic arm gesture. “But of course, you should know this. After all, only someone as perfect as myself would be able to summon an artist and warrior of my caliber.”

Before Shirou could tell this... Saber girl that, no, he did not in fact know precisely what was going on or how he summoned her, she stiffened. With a new glint of determination in her bright, almost lime green eyes, she hefted her impossibly large sword.

“Praetor,” she said seriously, “I sense another Servant approaching. I shall handle them personally. Stay safe.”

She dashed away at an incredible speed, leaving Shirou incredibly confused. But if there was one thing that people should know about Shirou Emiya, it would be that he never leaves things alone when he knows someone else may be in danger.

* * *

Caster frowned as she watched Assassin and Saber’s fight through her scrying spell. Her Servant got flung away like a rag doll. This was not going according to plan.

Granted, the witch’s plans had changed significantly since being summoned. Her original Master had been a monster. At first he seemed to be nothing more than a foolish magus from the Mages Association. His “brilliant master plan” to win the war consisted of nothing more than waiting for the other Servants to kill each other while they remained in hiding. It was pathetic.

When she protested his overly-simple plan, he became angry and used a Command Spell to force her into obedience. Things soon took a turn for the worse when the magus revealed an evil, perverted side towards the beautiful Servant who was now forced to obey him. Caster shuddered at the memories of the horrific things that happened to her during her week in the man’s service and the disgusting things she was forced to do.

Just when all hope of escaping from her contract with him seemed lost, the Holy Church’s moderator showed up at their doorstep. Under the pretense of alerting her Master to a recent update on the Servants that had been summoned, the priest gained access to their base. Without another word, the priest materialized a set of daggers in his hand and hacked off her Master’s arm and its remaining Command Seals.

Kirei Kotomine turned from the still bleeding corpse of her former Master and looked the Servant directly in the eyes as he held up the severed hand and it’s remaining Seals. “I think you’ll be in need of a new Master now,” he said with a smirk. “I’d like to volunteer.”

Caster was fairly pleased with this new arrangement. With a fellow schemer as her Master, she was free to set up a base of operations at Ryuudouji Temple, giving her access to massive amounts of prana which allowed her to summon her own Servant, Assassin. With a sufficient supply of mana from her new Master as well as the energy supplied by the leylines in the area, Caster and Kotomine could have Assassin act as their spy and scout against the other servants.

It was a sound plan. Assassin would help them learn the capabilities of the other Servants, while Caster would stay at their stronghold in the mountain, building her strength for when it was needed. Using the link between Servant and Master, she was able to keep Kotomine updated on all events, without ever needing to leave her hideout.

_“Master,”_ she said, reaching out towards the distant source of prana keeping her anchored in the world. _“It seems as if Servant Saber has been summoned.”_

“Good. Then as soon as the new Master registers with me, the war can officially begin,” She heard him chuckle through their mental link. “And then the real fun starts.”

Caster smiled as she ordered her Assassin to return to the temple for his nightly mana recharge. The Saber class Servant would be the hardest for her to deal with due to the class’s naturally high Magic Resistance, but Saber’s Master was clearly a novice. It would be child’s play to defeat him.

If only Caster knew how wrong she was.

* * *

Archer was fuming as he followed Rin. His ultimate goal was staring him in the face (a dead Shirou Emiya) and Rin revived the boy with the very jewel she used to summon him. ‘Some things never change,’ he thought with a sigh.

Granted, Archer wasn’t surprised that his Master saved the boy. She was far kinder than she liked others to believe. Not to mention the fact that he had first hand experience in the “getting magically revived by Rin Tohsaka” department.

But his attempt to break his contract with the World would have to wait, for things were not as Archer remembered them. What felt like (and probably was at this point) eons ago, when he fought in the Holy Grail War, Archer distinctly remembered Assassin being bound to the concentration of leylines around Ryuudouji Temple due to Caster’s low mana reserves from a non-magus Master. The samurai was not supposed to be acting as a scout; that was Lancer’s job.

But so far, Archer and Rin had yet to even encounter the spear-wielding Irish demigod. This did not bode well for the Counter Guardian-turned-Servant’s plans.

“Archer, focus!” Rin snapped at him, shaking the bowman from his thoughts. “If that really was Assassin we fought back there, he might have seen me save Emiya-kun. He might try to finish the job. Not that I’m overly concerned about whether he lives or dies,” Rin said, blushing slightly.

“No, you’re not concerned at all,” Archer responded with as much sarcastic condescension as he could fit into a single sentence. Annoying Rin was definitely one of the few perks his summoning had.

Rin turned, her face the same shade of red as her sweater. Whatever retort she had planned died on her lips as they both caught sight of Assassin flying through the air. Archer swore he saw the Servant disappear beyond the horizon of the night sky with a _twinkle_.

“What the hell?” the Master and Servant said in unison.

The pair exchanged a brief glance and rushed forward, hoping to discover whatever was strong enough to toss away Assassin like last week’s lunch.

The moment he crossed the Bounded Field around the Emiya estate, Archer sensed a Servant rushing towards him and Rin. Saber was coming.

No matter how cynical life had made him, Archer still had a bit of a soft spot for his old Servant. He saw the blonde girl charge forward as unneeded memories filled his head. Saber was just as magnificent as he remembered her. The same green eyes filled with spirit and determination, the same blonde hair, tightly braided for practicality in battle, and the same elegant... red dress?

_‘...Wait a minute...’_ was the only thought Archer had before Saber rammed into him, sending the bowman crashing through the Emiya’s fence.

Lying among the splinters, Archer shook off the sudden feeling of dizziness that came from getting rammed head first into the fence and said the only thing one logically would: “What the hell?!”

Shriou ran out into the yard just in time to see Saber take down the red and black clad Servant from before. Then, the blonde focused her attention on the other figure in the yard, Rin Tohsaka.

_‘What the hell is she doing here?’_ he thought in confusion. Rin Tohsaka was the idol of their high school. She was pretty, graceful, intelligent, and equally popular with the boys and the girls. Shirou couldn’t believe she was a magus.

Saber pointed her blade at Rin with a look of intense authority. “Surrender if you wish to remain amongst the living,” Saber said with dramatic emphasis on each syllable.

Rin glared at the sword-wielding girl and raised her hands as if to surrender. Suddenly, a large jewel appeared in her palm before she flicked it at Saber as if it were a grenade.

The gem exploded in the blonde’s face, knocking Shirou’s Servant backwards by several feet. When the smoke cleared, Saber was standing, her face and dress covered in small scratches and singe marks, looking quite annoyed. The tan Servant in red was again standing in front of Rin, a pair of black and white falchions in each hand.

In the blink of an eye, Saber and the man in red were rapidly exchanging blows. Though that may be a bit of an exaggeration, seeing as Saber shattered each falchion after only one or two strikes of her overly-complicated sword. But every time a sword was destroyed, it would reappear in the man’s hand an instant later.

 

Saber couldn’t scratch him, nor could the man in red get past the odd guard of her weapon. Clearly, this was a battle of endurance. Whoever was the first to tire for even an instant would be slain.

The two Servants broke apart, sizing up one another. With a haughty and enthusiastic smile, Saber’s crimson blade was engulfed in a veil of flames. “It is time I start being serious. You should feel honored,” she said.

“Oh believe me, I do,” the enemy Servant said in a bored and sarcastic tone.

The two Servants rushed forward and clashed again. It was no contest this time. The flaming sword shattered the twin falchions and slammed into the man’s side, cutting him deeply.

“Saber, stop!” Shirou called out, rushing towards the battle.

The petite blonde stopped, lowering her sword and extinguishing the flames. However, her body was still tense and clearly ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

Rin’s jaw dropped. “Emiya? _You’re_ a Master?” she asked in complete disbelief.

Shirou laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head. “I guess so. I’m just as surprised as you are.”

“I can’t believe another magus was living in my territory under my nose all this time,” she said with a grumble.

“Yeah, about that... could you tell me what’s going on, Tohsaka?”

“Great,” the tan man sighed. “The idiot summoned a Saber and doesn’t even have a clue what he’s gotten himself into.” Shirou had a feeling that the man would have sounded far snarkier if he had not been clutching his bleeding side in obvious pain.

“Hey!” the redhead shouted. “That’s not true. Dad warned me that I might have to fight in a war here in Fuyuki, but he never told me why.”

“Fine,” Rin sighed after a moment. “Since you did just save me from your Servant’s wrath, I guess I can explain to you the basics.” Her servant gestured to protest, but was silenced by a glare from Rin. “It’s the least we can do, Archer”

“Fine,” the man grumbled. “But know that I’m against it.”

After a moment of awkward silence, Shirou said, “Why don’t we take our conversation inside?”

* * *

When Shirou got back inside the relative safety of his house, he got the shock of a lifetime.

“S-Saber...” Shirou stammered, too horrified to voice his thoughts.

“Oh, what is it, Praetor?” the blonde Servant asked, curious.

“What’s wrong with your skirt?!” Shirou finally managed to say, blushing brightly. 

Now that Shirou had a moment to relax due to no longer being in the immediate danger of being killed by Servants, he could finally notice the fact that Saber was wearing one of the most scandalous outfits he had ever seen. Her red dress was completely backless and clung tightly to her chest, emphasizing her surprisingly developed bust. Worst of all though, was the white lace slip she wore under the red skirt. Under proper lighting, it was almost completely transparent!

“What on earth do you mean?” Saber asked, seemingly oblivious.

“Dammit, Saber!” Rin shouted, turning an impressive shade of scarlet. “We can see your panties!”

Instead of blushing or panicking like any rational girl would, Saber merely smiled confidently and put her hands on her hips, as if striking a pose.

“Oh is that all?” she chuckled nonchalantly. “I am simply allowing you to behold my beauty.”

Archer snorted. “And I thought Rin’s skirt was scandalous.”

The brunette magus quickly silenced her Servant by ramming her elbow into his still bleeding side, very hard. The dramatic effect was reduced somewhat by Rin now clutching her elbow in pain while her Servant did his best to hide his amusement.

_‘It’s gonna be one of those nights, isn’t it?’_ Shirou thought with a sigh.

* * *


	3. Partners

 

* * *

Shirou sat in stunned silence in his living room as Rin explained to him the finer details of the Holy Grail War. The conflict was almost always a bloody affair that endangered exposing the existence of magecraft to the world. Seven mages summon seven Servants and battle until the last team standing gets to make a wish on the Holy Grail.

_‘A chance to wish for anything? No wonder so many mages go so nuts for this,’_ he thought to himself.

“So, Tohsaka,” he asked after a moment. “If you win, what would you wish for?”

“I want nothing in particular. It’s my duty as the heir to the Tohsaka family to attain the Grail and discover the door to Akasha, the Root of all things.”

Shirou smiled. It was just the two of them in the room at the moment since Archer had disappeared into his astral form to heal, while Saber had wandered off to explore the house partway though Rin’s long explanation and history of the war. He was glad to know that Rin didn’t seem that selfish.

“Well then, we should be allies,” the redhead said with a smile. “That way, if I get the grail, you can have my wish.”

“What?” Rin said, shocked by his offer. “Why on earth would you just give up the Holy Grail? Besides Emiya-kun, this is a war. We may be forced to kill if we need to. We could be forced to turn on each other at a moment’s notice.”

“I don’t have any interest in the Grail. But before he died, I promised my Dad that I’d keep Fuyuki safe if something like this ever happened. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t keep that promise?”

“That is a noble mindset indeed, Praetor,” Saber said with an approving nod. The short blonde stood in the doorway of the room, presumably returning from her exploration of the Emiya house. After a moment though, she frowned. “However, there are some things we must discuss first.”

“Like what?” Shirou asked in confusion.

“This dwelling of yours is rather... humble for people of our stature, don’t you think?” Saber stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Actually Saber,” Rin chimed in, “Emiya’s home is surprisingly large.” She turned to face Shirou, her expression serious. “How do you afford it?”

Shirou laughed in embarrassment. He didn’t like it when people asked about his financial situation. It was one of the main reasons why he took the job at the Copenhagen Bar downtown; he didn’t want to be seen as a burden on others. Fuji-nee handled the bills and whatever other up-keep the house needed. Or at least she did in theory. Shirou strongly suspected that her grandfather and Kiritsugu’s old friend, the “Legitimate Businessman” was the reason that Shirou never needed to worry about financial matters.

But its impolite to voice suspicions like that out loud, so instead Shirou simply smiled and said, “I’ve never really worried about money, but my odd-jobs probably help.”

“So, Emiya-kun never needs to worry about money... How nice,” Rin said.

For some reason, the angelic smile that came with her words sent a chill through Shirou’s very soul. Trying to break the sudden feeling of impending doom filling the room, Shirou tried to get back on topic.

“Hey Tohsaka, you never answered my question. Do you wanna team up?”

“Partnerships never work out during the Grail War,” she said with finality. “You should drop out now if you think it’d be smart to trust your fellow Masters with your, or anyone else’s, life.”

“If that’s the case, then why’d you save me?” Shirou said, pulling the large red gem from his pocket.

Rin and Saber gasped. But Rin quickly recovered and gave him a level look. “Why on earth would you think I saved you?” she asked, clearly trying to brush it off.

“I saw you attack Saber with a gem earlier and found this next to me after I woke up from Assassin’s attack. It wasn’t very hard to put two and two together. This healed me somehow,” the red head said. After a moment, he smiled at the girl warmly. “Thank you, Tohsaka.”

Rin was stunned silent at how quickly Shirou figured things out. There was no way she could deny that she was clearly a good person deep down.

Before Rin could properly respond, Saber rushed forward and lifted the brunette magus into a bone crushing hug. “Thank you for saving Praetor,” she said as she put Rin back down. “At my next banquet, I shall toast you with my finest wine.”

Rin blushed and stammered awkwardly at the tag-team assault of affection. “F-fine,” she said while looking away from his gaze. “I’ll become your ally Emiya. But only because its obvious that you’d be dead without me.”

Shirou smiled and shook hands with his new partner.

 

* * *

Archer sat in astral form to heal. While he only half listened to Rin’s explanation of the Holy Grail War (he had heard it before after all), Archer was quite taken-aback when Rin agreed to become Shirou’s partner. That wasn’t supposed to happen yet. Not until Berserker and Ilya attacked them on their way back from Kotomine Church.

There was no way this was the same timeline the Heroic Spirit EMIYA came from. It seemed his dream of escaping his contract with the world would have to wait for now.

Putting the relaxing thoughts of killing his past self in the back of his mind, the red knight instead focused on this strange red Saber. There was no way that this arrogant, boisterous, and... strangely affectionate girl could be the one and only Arthuria Pendragon. But why the hell did they look so disturbingly similar? Maybe, Red-Saber - as Archer decided to call her since there was _no way_ this girl could be the same Saber he knew - might have some sort of connection to the King of the Britons, or else the Avalon within Shirou’s body wouldn’t have summoned her.

Was it possible that she was Mordred, King Arthur’s son? If King Arthur could secretly have been an adorable blonde girl all along, it wasn’t too far-fetched to believe that her evil son could be as well. it would at least explain the resemblance. Granted, it seemed unlikely that this girl could be capable of inciting a rebellion that could topple a kingdom and kill her parent, but there was always a possibility.

Archer rolled his eyes as Shirou offered to make Rin and Saber a snack before they went to Kotomine Church to get properly registered for the war. Saber brightened at the mention of food, but challenged Shirou’s culinary skills.

“Praetor, I shall have you know that in life I had the finest cooks in all of Europe at my beckoned call. If you can match them, I shall be impressed indeed.”

Somewhere, deep in the part of Archer’s mind that was still Shirou Emiya, the bowman felt a twinge of anger. _‘How dare this girl insult my cooking,’_ it seemed to say.

Archer did his best to ignore the implied insult to the one skill worth bragging about he had that didn’t involve killing people. Instead, the Servant of the bow focused on the Saber he remembered stating that the cooks of her time were terrible (though in their defense, they _were English_ ).

If Red-Saber was being honest, then there was no way, she could be from Camelot.

“Back to square one, I guess,” he said with a sigh.

 

* * *

Zouken Matou groaned as he descended the steps to the basement where his “granddaughter” Sakura received her “magic training.” Sadly though, tonight was not a night to be filled watching a girl repeatedly be violated by his Crest Worms. ‘That’s what Tuesdays are for,’ he thought with dark chuckle.

No, tonight the ancient magus had detected the feeling of another Servant being summoned. What was truly strange about it though, was that this Servant seemed to be a duplicate of the Lancer the Einzbern Master had summoned for this war.

Zouken had been observing everything from the shadows like the the bug he was. His countless familiars made up about a third of the insect population of Fuyuki City. To say the ancient magus had eyes everywhere would be an understatement. Nothing had gotten past Zouken’s radar in nearly 200 years. He would not let that start now.

As the withered old monster in human form observed the fight between the newly summoned Saber and the false Servant claiming to be Assassin, he broke out into a fit of wet, gurgling coughs. Blood and worms fell to the floor from his mouth as his slowly decaying body was racked with further pains.

This war arrived too soon. His plans for Sakura were not yet complete. The girl still had not completely broken, as he needed her to. Somehow, despite everything he did to break her mind, body, and spirit, Zouken could still somehow detect a speck of hope in her empty gaze whenever his future weapon lay on the floor to receive her “training.”

She was not yet ready to become the Black Grail. She was close alright, but with Greater Grail System as confused as it was dealing with two seemingly-identical Servants and a Servant who exploited a loophole to summon her _own_ Servant, the ancient head of the Matou family wasn’t sure this war would be the one where his plans would come to fruition.

Another series of wheezing coughs resulted in an eye popping out of its socket and roll away into the shadows of his workshop. _‘No,’_ he thought with renewed vigor. _‘It doesn’t matter if the girl isn’t broken yet. This war may be my last.’_

Zouken Matou was many things, but a quitter he was not. He’d find a way to claim the Grail, with or without his so-called granddaughter’s sanity intact. He just needed a few days to prepare.

He smiled as a new group of worms slithered into his empty socket, reforming his eye. The Grail would be his. The Masters in this war were mostly children. They would be easy to deal with. And then, immortality would be his at long last.

Carefully, Shirou placed the servings of fried rice with shrimp on the table in front of Rin and Saber. He was a bit worried that something so small and whipped up on such short notice wouldn’t be that good, but it was a bit after midnight so he shouldn’t have been making anything big in the first place.

Saber examined the food closely, as if searching for some sort of error in its presentation. Finding none, she grabbed the chopsticks and began to eat the rice and pork. Suddenly, her eyes lit up with the brightness of a thousand suns and tears streamed down her face.

“This is amazing! I’ve never had anything so unique as this!,” she said in awe. “Praetor, truly, you are a chef worthy of Edesia herself.”

Shirou blushed slightly, not used to such open praise. “Thank you, Saber, but this is nothing really. I can make something much better for dinner tomorrow night.”

At these words, Saber practically had stars in her eyes. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you, Praetor. Clearly, you must be a noble of the highest rank to have an assortment of skills as wonderful as my own.”

She latched onto Shirou’s arm and smiled expectantly, clearly wanting seconds. Shirou wasn’t sure how to tell her that what he gave the girls was all he made.

_‘It’s gonna be a long war, isn’t it?’_ he thought with an awkward smile.

 

* * *

Rin sighed as Saber followed her and Shirou down the street. The blonde Servant looked even more ridiculous than she normally did. Once it became apparent that Saber couldn’t properly go into her astral form (most likely due to Emiya’s shortcomings as a magus), they were left trying to figure out how to make the girl blend in before they went to the church.

With a snap of her fingers, Saber was suddenly wearing an outfit that was, _somehow_ , **even worse** than her original dress. The best description for the white outfit the girl was wearing would be some sort of highly fetishized bridal dress covered in strategically placed zippers.

Seriously, what kind of pervert gave this girl fashion advice?

Seeing as Shirou was clearly too distracted by those... _balloons_ attached to Saber’s chest, Rin suggested the Servant try a different outfit to conceal herself with.

Which is what led them to their current situation. Saber, thankfully back in her original red dress, followed the two teens down the street wrapped in a bright yellow raincoat. While it miraculously hid everything that was wrong with the girl’s outfit from view, you could still spot her from a mile away. She’d never understand how Emiya thought that the old raincoat would somehow make Saber less conspicuous than she already was. Though if that was his idea of inconspicuous clothing, it would help explain how he’d summoned Saber as his Servant.

The group soon arrived at Kotomine’s church. In the light rain, the small church’s depressing aura seemed even greater. No doubt because it was emulating it’s pastor’s personality.

“Praetor,” Saber said seriously, before getting cut off.

“Saber, I told you no need for all this ‘Praetor’ stuff. Just call me Shirou,” the redhead said.

“Fine,” the blonde said with a sigh. “ _Shirou_ , I sense a dark presence from this place.”

“Really?” Rin asked, intrigued.

“Yes,” Saber said with an tense nod. “I don’t rust this place. It is a Christian domain, isn’t it?”

Rin had to resist the urge to face palm. It seemed Saber was from an era where Christianity was not the large religion it was today, and as a result was still distrusted. Rin wasn’t sure how to respond to that. On the one hand, her greatly respected ancestor, Nagato Tohsaka, had the courage to be a Christian in an era when japan was so isolationist that the entire religion and all foreigners were banned. So, by insulting Fuyuki’s church, Saber was essentially insulting Rin’s family history. On the other hand... she was also insulting Kotomine.

“Well put Saber. Don’t go in there or the creepy priest will get you,” she said with a laugh and only a hint of irony. After all, no matter how dour the fake priest was, there’s no way he was actually evil, just obnoxious.

If only Rin knew how wrong she was.

 

* * *

_‘Rejoice, Shirou Emiya, for your wish shall be granted.’_

Those were the words that the unsettling priest said to him as he left the church. Shirou still wasn’t sure how the imposing middle-aged priest was able to get under his skin so efficiently. It was as if every word the priest said was somehow mocking him and his desires to keep innocents safe.

Saber was right though. There was definitely something unsettling about that priest and his church.

Saber nodded to them as he and Rin approached. “Praetor,” she said with her usual authority, “I hope we are done for the night. I’d like to retire as soon as possible.”

Shirou really wished she’d stop calling him that. What the heck did ‘Praetor’ mean anyway? His Latin was even worse than his skills in English.

_‘Oh well,’_ he thought, _‘at least she’s not calling me Master. That’d be way too weird.’_

“Like I keep telling you, Saber, call me Shirou,” he said in exasperation before calming himself. “But don’t worry. I’m tired too. We can get a good night’s sleep and figure out a plan in the morning.”

Somehow, a girl who didn’t even come up to his chin was more intimidating and authoritative than him. She made it quite obvious from her actions that whenever she agreed to do something his way, it was simply because she was indulging him and not because he was her boss. Granted that was probably a good thing. Shirou had no interest in forcing her to do something against her will with a Command Seal.

As the trio continued down the street, they heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Considering that it was nearly two in the morning, this was not a good sign.

An attractive, athletically-built woman in a business suit emerged from the rainy mist. Even though she was fairly young (no more than a few year older than Rin and Shirou) she carried herself with powerful confidence of an experienced fighter.

She smiled and waved at them as the figure of a man appeared behind her, partially obscured by the fog. Though the woman was clearly skilled, the man hidden in the fog radiated power and bloodlust. Shirou could feel it just looking at the man’s silhouette.

“Good evening,” she said in heavily accented Japanese. “I’ve been scouting near this church all night now, hoping to see another Master. I can’t believe I found two for the price of one.”

Shirou and Rin tensed while Saber protectively stepped in front of the Master duo.

“Identify yourself, magus!” Saber ordered.

The magenta haired woman smiled pleasantly. “I am Bazett Fraga McRemitz and my Berserker has been itching for a fight all day.”


	4. A Berserk Battle

* * *

The second the second the young woman finished her sentence, hell came upon them.

A tall, muscular man clad in odd blue armor rushed from the fog. His dark red eyes seemed to glow in the moonlight.

_**“Chun Cath!”**_ Berserker roared as he rushed at the trio.

Roared was the only word to describe a voice that was so feral and wild. It was not the vice of a man, but the voice of a mad dog, hungry for battle and bloodshed. His scream shook the world around him. The clap of thunder that followed the Gaelic battle cry was put to shame in terms of sheer volume.

Fast as lightning, Berserker swung at Saber’s head. She twisted away from the attack, but was blown away by the shock-wave caused by the mere swing of the blue-haired servant’s fist. This monster of a Servant could break the sound barrier just by punching!

Saber stood on shaky feet, hefting her massive crimson blade. “Praetor! Rin! Run!” she commanded before charging back towards Berserker.

She swung her blade horizontally towards his chest, but Berserker bent his spine at an unnatural angle, twisting out of the way. His left arm came up and smashed into the side of Saber’s head with the strength of an eighteen-wheeler. The tiny girl went flying into a light pole, breaking it with a sickening snap.

“Saber!” Shirou cried in horror.

The young magus rushed towards his fallen Servant but was suddenly stopped by Archer who materialized in front of him.

“Don’t be a fool,” the Servant said. “Berserker is not an opponent you have a chance of beating.”

“Then let’s see you try,” Berserker said in an ominous growl.

His voice was filled with a bloodthirsty desire for battle. Battle beyond reason, beyond thought, beyond all rationality. Yet somehow, the Servant’s Mad Enhancement allowed him to retain speech and basic thought. Archer wasn’t sure what terrified him more, Cú Chulainn summoned as Berserker, or a Berserker that seemed capable of thought.

Archer projected his beloved swords, Kanshou and Bakuya and prepared for the worst the Hound of Ulster had to offer. Before the blue-clad Berserker could attack, a street light bashed him in the head.

Archer jaw dropped at the sight of Saber using the broken lamp post as a polearm. How the hell could a girl less than five feet tall casually swing a ten foot steel pole?! She was even stronger than Arthuria.

“Berserker,” she said with confidence, “I don’t believe we were finished yet. It’s unwise to ignore an Emperor!”

Berserker lifted the metal pole from his face and casually crumpled part of the steel in his hand as if it were tissue paper. He yanked the pole from her hands and casually flung it down the road.

While his focus was on Saber, Archer threw Kanshou over the Irish Servant’s shoulder. With Bakuya in his left hand, Archer lunged at Berserker’s back. At the same moment, Saber materialized her large crimson blade and charged at Berserker’s front.

Berserker whipped around and grabbed Archer’s face in a bone-crushing grip. Fast as lightning, Berserker spun around and threw the bowman at Saber, right before her blade could connect. The two Servants went crashing to the ground, leaving a small crater of rubble. Berserker slowly advanced on the two, ready to finish the fight.

Thankfully, at that moment, Kanshou chose to return to its mated sword. The black sword flew through the air, spinning like a buzz-saw. The beautiful black blade struck Berserker’s shoulder, cleaving out a large chunk of flesh.

Berserker hissed in pain as Archer caught the blade with a smile. If he could hurt the mighty Cú Chulainn with such a simple attack, then Archer knew he and Red-Saber still had a chance.

* * *

Shirou struggled to break free of Rin’s grip as she pulled him away from the battling Servants.

“Let me go,” he growled. “I can’t just sit here and let other people fight and get hurt because of me.”

“Don’t be an idiot!” she snapped at him. “If you intrude on a battle between Servants, you’ll die... Again!” After a moment, she added, “I’m not made of gems, you know.”

“But Saber’s in trouble. I’ve gotta help...” Shirou trailed off as he saw the tiny blonde girl stand up, dust herself off, and casually bash Berserker over the head with the light pole her back had just broken.

Shirou and Rin jaw dropped. _‘Tohsaka and Archer might have a point...’_ Shirou reluctantly thought.

Unfortunately, Shirou and Rin were so focused on the fighting and then their argument, that neither of them noticed Bazett rushing around the edge of the battlefield and heading straight for them.

* * *

With a blood-curdling roar, Berserker lashed out at Archer and Saber. The red-clad Servants dove in opposite directions, dodging the Irish hero’s strike.

The fact that these Servants wouldn’t sit still and fight him made Berserker angry. Granted, due to the Mad Enhancement placed on him, _everything_ made Berserker angry. But an opponent who wouldn’t play seriously was an insult Cú Chulainn couldn’t forgive. And so, through the red haze of madness and bloodlust his mind had become, Berserker decided it was time to get serious.

With a swipe of his arm, Berserker cast an Ansuz rune and surrounded his fist in a ball of fire. The witch Scathach had trained Cú Chulainn far too well for something as trivial as “complete and utter madness” to keep him from knowing how to cast runes. The eighteen original runes the Hound of Ulster had access to were in fact diminished by his inability to concentrate on their power. The Ansuz rune would normally have enough power to burn down an entire castle in minutes, so it being used for something as trivial flaming punches would make Scathach tan Cú Chulainn’s hide.

With incredible speed, Berserker caught up to Archer, who was trying to put enough distance between them to use his arrows. With enough force to shatter concrete, Berserker’s flaming fists pummeled the tan Servant.

* * *

Archer did his best not to scream in pain as Berserker’s flaming fists came at him from all sides. If he hadn’t reinforced himself before impact, Archer’s body would have long since been reduced to charred dust. Still, this fire wasn’t nearly as hot as that day all those years ago when Archer was truly born. He survived that soul crushing fire, he would survive this as well.

Salvation came a moment later when Saber delivered a flaming slash diagonally down Berserker’s back.

The Servant howled and stopped his attack. The fire engulfing his powerful fists vanished; the temporary flash of pain making the Servant lose focus.

“Berserker,” Saber shouted with a dramatic flare. “I am your opponent, so stop ignoring me!”

Archer smirked. Now was his chance to put his plan into action. With a brief nod of thanks towards Saber, Archer went into his astral form and vanished.

* * *

Saber smiled as the overly-serious Archer vanished while Berserker’s back was turned. He was far to stoic for his own good. He reminded Saber far too much of the nobles from her time. Always hiding and suppressing their emotions to advance their plans and conspiracies. The girl Praetor had allied with seemed genuine, but her enigmatic Servant was another matter entirely.

With another earth shaking roar, Berserker charged. Saber knew this hero was strong, but surely, he was no Hercules.

Saber swept her leg in a low kick just as Berserker reached her. Her golden boot tripped up the Servant, sending Berserker tumbling. Quickly, Saber hefted her beloved scarlet sword and again slashed at Berserker’s back.

The Servant deftly twisted his arm in an impossible manner and caught her burning hot sword in his hand.

With a growl, the Servant stood and released her blade. He looked at the cut on his hand and smiled. He smeared the blood across his face and began to laugh maniacally.

Somehow, Saber felt the air around herself and the blue-clad warrior change as it filled with more mana than she had ever felt in her life.

With a new level of power and madness in his voice, Berserker said, “ **Warp Spasm.** ”

* * *

Shirou and Rin never saw her coming.

In an instant, Bazett emerged from the fog and knocked Rin out with a single blow to the back of her head. The Reinforcement runes on her gloves enabled the Irish magus to hit with the force of a sledgehammer.

Rin crumpled to the ground, leaving Shirou alone against the Enforcer of the Mages’ Association.

_‘This is gonna suck,’_ was the only thought Shirou had before Bazett’s fist connected with his chest.

* * *

Saber’s bright green eyes widened in horror as Berserker activated his Noble Phantasm. The atmosphere exploded with energy as Berserker’s scarlet eyes began to glow through the darkness.

With a series of sickening snaps, every joint in Berserker’s body seemed to dislocate while his muscles bulged in an unnatural manner beneath his stretched out skin. His hair escaped its rather neat ponytail and flowed about him wildly, becoming an impossibly spiky mane.

With a murderous howl, Berserker charged forward faster than Saber though possible. She deftly spun out of the way, dodging his charge like a toreador.

However, Berserker stopped on a dime and twisted in a hideously unnatural way. His bones and muscles seemed to move before his skin caught-up. For a brief second, it was if Berserker’s entire body was backwards within his own skin.

Berserker caught Saber’s incoming slash by grabbing her dainty wrist in a vise-grip. Saber winced through the pain, but she wouldn’t let a mere bone-crushing death grip stop her.

With a quick, awkward thrust, Saber’s heavy sword embedded itself into Berserker’s ribs. The monstrous Servant actually smiled; stretching his face in a disturbing way.

Berserker head-butted Saber with enough force to embed her feet into the asphalt of the street. He rapidly pummeled her with the speed of lightning and the force of a hurricane.

Now it was Saber’s turn to grin. She loved a challenge. After all, any artist worth their salt must struggle with and overcome adversity.

* * *

Shirou lay on the ground, coughing in pain as he tried to catch his breath.

Bazett’s punch easily fractured at least one of his ribs. Bazett looked down at him sympathetically. “Kid, just forfeit your Command Seals. You don’t seem cut out for this kind of war,” she said with some concern.

Still struggling for breath, Shirou looked up at her, eyes full of determination. “Never,” he said with conviction. “I made a promise to keep Fuyuki safe and I’m gonna keep it.”

Bazett cocked an eyebrow in confusion and lifted Shirou by the collar of his shirt. “I’m an enforcer of the Mages’ Association,” she said. “Keeping magecraft a secret is why I’m here.”

Shirou glared at the woman. “That’s not the same thing. I won’t let any innocent people get mixed up in this stupid battle and die. I want to save everybody.”

Bazett let go of the redhead’s shirt and dropped the teen to the ground. “That’s an admirable goal, but totally naive,” she said with a sigh.

Shirou struggled to stand. He needed to stop this enemy Master before things got any worse. Rin said that with Masters it was either kill or be killed. Sure, this Bazett woman wanted to keep the existence of magic under-wraps, but he was sure that if push-came-to-shove, she’d kill any normal people who discovered the war.

“Seriously,” Bazett sighed, “The Holy grail War is no place for kids. You and your girlfriend should just drop out now before things get any worse.”

At that moment, Bazett got hit in the back by a small swirling ball of dark energy. Bazett stumbled, but quickly regained her footing in time to see Rin standing once again and pointing her finger at the Irish magus as if it were a gun.

With a glare the girl said, “Gandr.”

* * *

About half a mile away from the battlefield, Archer stood on a hilltop, watching the battle between Saber and Berserker, waiting for the right moment to strike. As Red-Saber continuously slashed at Berserker, Archer couldn’t help but critique her technique. She was incredibly skilled and graceful with her oddly designed sword, but she wasn’t nearly as skilled as the Saber he knew or as impeccably refined as Assassin. He moves had the graceful and elaborate movements of a dancer, flowing from one strike to the next. Even with her feet solidly imbedded into the street pavement, she stood her ground and hacked and slashed at Berserker with everything she had.

Unfortunately it wasn’t enough. Cú Chulainn’s Warp Spasm had at least doubled his speed and strength at the seeming cost of taking whatever reasoning was left within his mind. His body would twist and turn in impossible directions to deflect all her attacks. It was like his bones and muscles were a monster trying to escape from the prison of his skin. Frankly it was amazing that Saber hadn’t yet been ground to dust.

Suddenly, Archer saw an opening. Saber dropped her sword and grabbed Berserker’s arm with all her strength and flipped the Servant over her shoulder, slamming him head-first into the pavement.

Without a second thought, Archer Projected his black bow and Caladbolg, the Spiral Sword. According to legend, Cú Chulainn was destined to be killed by anyone wielding the mighty blade if they were from Ulster. Archer, of course, was not from Ulster and was not using this mighty weapon as a blade, but it was still worth a shot.

Infusing the projection with his own mana, Archer altered the sword’s Structure, turning it into an arrow. He infused the spiral shaped arrow with more and more energy until it became Broken. The second the newly created arrow hit its target, it would explode with enough force to make bombs jealous.

As Berserker stood, his back to Archer, the red-clad Servant smiled. If he got lucky he could take out both Berserker and this strange new Saber in one shot.

“ **Caladbolg!** ”

Calling out the weapon’s name, Archer drew back the bow as far as his injured body would allow him and fired.

* * *

Saber grinned as Berserker stood. The insane Servant was far stronger than she thought, but that was fine. All the best fights must have dramatic tension for the hero to overcome. Its what kept audiences interested in the stories they were seeing.

“I must admit,” she said in between near breathless pants, “you are far more skilled than I anticipated. But I have the strength of Hercules and the wisdom of Minerva! It will take more than this to kill me.”

Berserker’s response to her boasting was to roar and rip her from ground, freeing her feet from their asphalt confinement. Saber kicked the Servant in the face with enough force to shatter bone.

She dropped to the ground and punched Berserker in the stomach with both hands, launching the Hound of Ulster a few feet into the air.

She then had the fortune to notice a spiraling streak of silver and red energy flying towards them at breakneck speeds. It seemed Archer finally decided to intervene.

Not knowing what to expect, Saber jumped back as far as she could as the arrow came into contact with Berserker.

He must have seen the missile coming because he again twisted in the air in his horrific frenzied state and grabbed the arrow with both hands, stopping it in its tracks. Clearly though, he wasn’t expecting the weapon to then explode in his face.

* * *

Rin Tohsaka was angry. Not only had this woman ambushed her and taken her down like she was an inexperienced novice, but now she had the gall to say that she shouldn’t be in the war in the first place. How dare she!

The Tohsakas were one of the three founding families of the Holy Grail War. To imply that she wasn’t ready was an insult to everything she believed in as a magus and as the guardian of Fuyuki’s leylines.

And to top it off, she had _dared_ to imply that Rin would ever want to date Emiya of all people.

With a series of blasts quicker than some guns, Rin fired off a series of Gandr Shots at the enemy Master. For some reason, the Finnish curse seemed to have little to no effect on the woman. Deciding it might be time to up the ante, Rin let another gem slide from her sleeve and into her palm.

* * *

Bazett charged at Rin, wisely recognizing her as the bigger threat compared to Shirou. Because of the Reinforcement runes on her clothing, the young Irish magus was barely effected by the curses expertly fired by the high school student.

Bazett swung her fist at Rin, intending to incapacitate the girl with a more serious blow to the head. Instead, the teen threw a round topaz gem at Bazett and jumped back from her punch, making the Enforcer instead hit the gem.

It released a massive gust of wind that sent Bazett flying into a nearby tree.

Bazett struggled to her feet unsteadied by this turn of events. The girl in the red sweater was good, _really_ good, to pull one over on her.

They were about to continue their fight when a massive explosion brought their attention to their Servants.

* * *

Archer watched with satisfaction as Caladbolg detonated. The explosion could be seen clearly for nearly a mile. How the hell the Grail War had been kept secret for 200 hundred year was beyond him, but it wasn’t Archer’s problem to deal with.

With a smirk, Archer again disappeared into his astral form to return to his Master’s side.

* * *

Berserker landed on the ground in a heap, bleeding and covered in burns. He slowly stood on shaky legs, clearly still eager to fight, though the disturbing look of death was gone from his eyes. He had run out of energy to use Warp Spasm.

Saber herself was not much better. While she had escaped the worst of the blast, her dress was tattered and her right arm had been significantly charred. There were more than a few open wounds that would take time to heal. The blonde Servant knew that her Praetor was supplying her with very little mana at the moment. Unless there was additional intervention soon, either she or Berserker would surely die.

Berserker smirked. “I like you,” he said in his feral, growling voice. “You fight fair. I’ll duel you anytime.”

Saber beat her fist against her heart with a proud smile. “It is only appropriate for an Emperor to conduct themselves with proper discipline.”

“Good to know,” he said as his smile again became that of a predator stalking its prey. He charged at her fists raised. Saber raised her blade, standing in a defensive stance.

“Berserker!” Bazett’s voice rang out through the night. “We’re leaving!”

Berserker slowed down his charge and glared in his Master’s direction. “It was just getting good!” he roared in angry protest.

“That explosion was bound to attract some witnesses. We’re leaving,” his Master ordered.

With a sigh, Berserker slowly vanished into his astral form, shooting Saber a glare before he vanished.

The enemy Master ran off, vanishing in the fog before Saber could catch her.

With a sigh, she turned to face the approaching Shirou and Rin.

* * *

Shirou smiled at Saber when she turned to face him and Rin. She’d done an amazing job fending off Berserker, unlike him who was completely useless. What little of the fight he’d been able to pay attention to was amazing. Saber was absolutely fearless and filled with nothing but confidence. In a way, he could see why she had such an ego.

“You were great Saber,” he said with a smile, despite the pain in his ribs. “I think we’ve all earned a rest. Let’s go home.”

“That would be lovely,” Saber said with a smile.

* * *

Ilyasviel von Einzbern emerged at the sight of the explosion a few minutes after everyone left. She could see the blast from her castle. But more importantly, the homunculus’s connection to the Grail enabled her to sense the presence of three Servants battling here.

“Master,” Lancer said, getting the girl’s attention. “It seems that we just missed the first major confrontation of the War. I suggest that we _do not_ miss the second.”

Ilya glared at the short blonde in the armored dress. She’d been eager to fight and win the Grail since the moment she’d been summoned. Of course, Ilya’s only concern was finding her so-called brother and finding out what made him special enough for her father to abandon her.

“Oh don’t worry Saber,” she said with a dark gleam in her eye. “Tomorrow, I’ll find our first opponent. And once we’ve beaten him, you can fight any Servant you want.”

Tomorrow would prove to be a very interesting day indeed for Shirou Emiya.

* * *


	5. Shirou's Strange Morning

* * *

At the crosswalk separating their neighborhoods, Rin and Shirou parted ways for the night, agreeing to meet and regroup at school the next day.

With a parting wave to Rin, Shirou and Saber headed home.

Once he got home, Shirou wanted nothing more than to collapse and fall into blissful sleep. After all, this had been the longest night of his life; getting killed, then revived, then sucked into a war, and finally beaten to a pulp by an experienced magus. Unfortunately, Saber was proving difficult.

“Saber, you are _not_ sleeping in my room,” Shirou said defiantly.

“ _Yes_ , I am,” the tiny Servant said with authority ill-fitting a girl who didn’t even reach his chin. “Praetor, be reasonable. You are injured from battle. If a Servant were to attack while you rest, you would obviously need a bodyguard of my magnificent level.”

Shirou sighed. They’d been arguing over this for ten minutes now. “Yeah, but it’s inappropriate for boys and girls to sleep in the same room.”

The blonde cocked an eyebrow. “Since when?” she asked, legitimately confused.

“Since... I don’t know, a long time,” Shirou answered, rather lamely. Really, he just didn’t want to admit how uncomfortable it would be to sleep with a _very_ pretty girl watching over him. Doing his best to ignore the baser instincts in his head to stop fighting her and accept this as a blessing, Shirou remained adamant.

Suddenly Saber smirked at him, a knowing gleam in her eye. “Oh, I get it now Praetor,” she said. “You wouldn’t know what to do with a beautiful young maiden in your bed. How... _adorable_.”

Shirou did his best to suppress the embarrassed blush that must have appeared on his face. “T-that’s not true at all,” he stammered.

“That’s good to hear,” she said confidently. “For a moment there, I was worried that a strapping young man like you was a eunuch, or worse: a virgin.”

Shirou’s face suddenly felt hotter than the sun as he grabbed Saber by her shoulders and ushered her into the guest room adjacent to his.

“See, this room will be fine,” he said as forcefully as he could. “It’s right next to mine if there’s any danger.” When the blonde opened her mouth to protest, Shirou silenced her. “Don’t make me use a Command Spell on something this stupid,” he said with an annoyed sigh.

Finally, the Servant seemed to give up, slumping her shoulders with a nod. Shirou bid her goodnight, went into his room and immediately collapsed onto his bed, welcoming the comforting embrace of sleep.

* * *

_He dreamed of fire that night._

_Though the young magus would sometimes have nightmarish dreams back to his hellish struggle through the flames, this dream was different._

_He saw the capitol of a great Empire; a city as glorious as its history. It was engulfed in a raging inferno. People screamed and cried out for help as their great city turned to ash. Even the mightiest Empire in the known world was helpless against the power of this hellish blaze. Entire districts of the city were turned to ash while buildings crumbled all around the people from the dryness and the heat._

_Where was their Emperor? How could he allow this to happen?_

_The fire ragged for five agonizing days before it was fully extinguished by a blessed rain from the heavens. On the fifth day, the Emperor returned from business abroad and was ready to help in whatever way he could. After all, what better way could there be to show how he loved the people of this glorious Empire with all his heart?_

_If only the people still loved their Emperor in return._

* * *

Shirou’s eyes snapped open. As awareness slowly returned to his body, Shirou couldn’t help but feel very warm.

It was then that Shirou deigned to notice that Saber had somehow wound up in bed with him. The beautiful blonde’s red dress was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she wore nothing more than a skimpy white leotard that left absolutely _nothing_ to the imagination. Making matters worse of course, was the fact that Saber’s arm was draped over his bare torso while her impressively developed chest was pressed firmly against his side as she held him close. Her long strands of loose blonde hair rested on his shoulder as Saber’s chin had found a spot cuddled into the crook of his neck. 

Despite only being conscious for about a minute, Shirou’s mind was racing with more thoughts than he thought possible.

_‘How the hell did she get in here?!’ ‘Oh god, why didn’t I put a shirt on before I fell asleep?’ ‘If she squeezes me any tighter, my other ribs are gonna break.’ ‘How can a girl so small be so..._ _big_ _?’ ‘Oh god, PLEASE don’t let Fuji-nee see us like this.’ ‘Oh god, or Sakura!’_

However, another, more hormone driven aspect of his mind voiced another thought entirely as he looked at Saber’s beautiful and peaceful face. _‘I could get used to waking up like this.’_

Shirou, not knowing what thought to voice aloud, instead chose the pragmatic approach of leaping out of bed with a surprised yelp.

Saber sat up in bed groggily and gave him a level look as she massaged her forehead. “If that’s how you wake up every morning, we may need to change the sleeping arrangements.”

“W-wha... how?” Shirou stammered, still in partial shock over waking up in bed with a girl.

“Are you always this articulate?” Saber said with a smirk as she stretched, further emphasizing her impressive curves encased in the tight white fabric.

“What the hell are you dong in my room?!” the redhead finally managed to shout, forcing the redness from his face.

“Sleeping, obviously,” Saber said in a deadpan tone. “How else am I to protect you?”

“How’d you get in here... and what are you wearing?” the teen said, trying not to stare.

Saber smirked. “It was a simple matter indeed Praetor. My skill of Imperial Privilege allows me to temporarily use other skills I’ve witnessed. I simply used Presence Concealment to enter your room unnoticed. You didn’t even peep.

“And as for my attire,” she added after letting her main point sink in, “did you honestly expect me to sleep in my dress? There’s no way I’d let such high quality fabric get wrinkled.” She then snapped her fingers and was near instantaneously wearing her red dress again.

The tiny blonde Servant smiled smugly. Not only had she ultimately gotten her way, but she’d also effectively proved her point. If she could walk in and get into bed with him so easily, another Servant would have no more trouble either.

“Fine,” Shirou said with a sigh. “You can sleep in here to guard me from now on. But first, we’re getting you some real pajamas,” he added, hoping she’d actually listen.

Suddenly Shirou heard noises coming from the front o the house as someone came through the front door.

“Good morning sempai,” he heard Sakura cheerfully call out from the entrance.

Saber tensed and rose from his bed, summoning her giant curved sword. “Praetor, who is that?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“Sakura, one of my oldest friends” he quickly responded. Then, he called out, “Morning Sakura! I’ll be out in a minute, I’m... uh, getting changed.”

Saber smirked and lowered her guard. “Ah Praetor, I had no idea you were in the middle of wooing a maiden. Naturally, I won the hearts of many fair maidens in my life as well.”

Shirou rolled his eyes and ignored her comments. He quickly tossed on a clean T-shirt, deciding there was _no way_ he was getting fully changed with Saber watching.

_‘Oh god why’d Sakura have to come now?’_ he thought in a panic. He could not let her see Saber. There was no telling how the poor girl would react to a strange seemingly-foreign woman suddenly living with him.

“Saber,” he said tensely. “Please don’t leave my room until I give you the okay.”

“Have no fear Praetor,” she said enthusiastically, still not calling him by his actual name. “After all, it would be most unsporting to use the many charms at my disposal to steal this Sakura girl away from you.”

“...Thanks,” Shirou said after a moment, still not sure how to deal with the blonde’s massive ego. “But Saber, do you have anything else you could wear to blend in better?” the redhead asked before he eft the room.

The petite Servant stroked her chin as if deep in thought for a moment. Suddenly she brightened up and snapped her fingers.

Saber now stood before him in much less ornate red outfit that consisted of a tank-top-like blouse and a long red and gold sarong-esque skirt. Instead of her armored golden boots, Saber’s dainty feet were now clad in fairly practical sandals. Her outfit was still fairly revealing, but much more normal by modern standards.

He smiled thankfully at the Servant. “Much better,” he said gratefully.

“I suppose,” she sighed. “Truthfully, this ensemble is the most casual thing I own. For something as glorious as the Holy Grail War, I should be better dressed.”

Shirou resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  Saber’s tastes were quite odd. “Well, we can talk fashion _after_ I make breakfast,” Shirou said, trying to be compromising. “Fuji-nee, my teacher, is gonna be here soon. I _cannot_ let her see you.”

Saber frowned. “Praetor,” the girl said in serious tone, “as an artist, I can’t remain hidden away from the public eye forever.”

Shirou tensed. Clearly, another argument was about to happen. He needed to diffuse things before Saber wound up doing whatever she wanted, like last night.

“Saber, how about I bring you some breakfast after everyone’s gone? I’ll make whatever you’d like.”

Saber smiled. “That would be most acceptable.” Then after a moment, she added, “I’d expect nothing less than an excellent sense of diplomacy from my Master.”

With a thankful smile, Shirou left the Servant to join Sakura in the kitchen.

* * *

Sakura Matou smiled as she helped Shirou prepare a fairly large breakfast.

Shirou was probably the only good thing in her life. Sakura’s sister had abandoned her, while her brother mistreated and violated her on a regular basis, all with her grandfather’s blessing and encouragement.

She knew that she was far too impure for Shirou to ever truly love. But sometimes, Sakura was selfish and hoped that her beloved sempai would care for her the same way she did for him.

But just spending time with him was enough for now. Shirou had a kindness and light about him that made even someone as damaged and worthless as her feel happy.

It was all because of her love for Shirou that Sakura had stayed sane for so long. There would times during and after her frequent “training sessions” in the Matou family crypt that Zouken would express surprise at how unresponsive the purple haired girl was. it was clear from the ancient magus’s words that he’d expected Sakura’s mind to break years ago.

But still, for however much longer she had, Sakura would hold on and treasure whatever time together she had with her sempai. All for the sake of seeing Shirou’s peaceful smile for just a bit longer.

* * *

Shirou did his best to look happy as he and Sakura set the table for breakfast. In truth, while he was always happy to spend time with Sakura, Shirou had far too many things on his mind today.

The Holy Grail War was more dangerous than he’d ever thought possible. That Bazett woman and her Berserker were incredibly dangerous. And what’s worse, is that they seemed to be the nice ones. If what his father and Rin had said about mages being amoral and almost completely remorseless was true, then he and the school idol were lucky to still be alive.

It was because of how dangerous other mages were that Shirou wanted to fight in the Grail War in the first place. They only cared about their own glory and would do whatever they could to achieve it. If that was the case, then most of the other Masters would be perfectly willing to kill whoever was unfortunate enough to discover them or the War. The other Servant may even feast on the innocent people of Fuyuki to increase their strength. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

Shirou was different of course. He had no desire for anything as trivial as glory or power. He simply wished to help others in whatever way he could; all in an attempt to feel the same feeling of joy Kiritsugu had when he saved Shirou. He’d give anything to feel that happy or complete.

If only Shirou knew how truly distorted this mindset made him.

“SHIROU!!! What’s for breakfast?!”

The roar of a mighty tiger pulled the redhead from his musings on the Grail War. Taiga Fujimura, Shirou’s English teacher and legal guardian, burst through the front door of his house in her usual absurdly energetic fashion.

“Good morning to you too, Fuji-nee,” Shirou said rather dryly. He couldn’t help being just a bit sarcastic with the hyperactive woman. She _was_ the closest thing he had to a sister after all; it came with the territory.

“Now is that anyway to talk to me? I take very good care of you,” Taiga said defensively.

“Yes,” Shirou said with a pleasant smile. “And I take very good care of you. Here’s breakfast.”

Taiga paid little to no attention to Shirou’s continued teasing and started absorbing the food at a rate that would would impress most black holes.

The pseudo-family ate while chatting happily. Moments like this helped remind Shirou of why he wanted to fight in the Grail War in the first place. _‘Non-magical people like Sakura and Fuji-nee would be in danger if someone evil got their hands on the Holy Grail,’_ he thought in concern.

They ate in relative peace for a few more minutes until Taiga ran out of food. If there was one thing any zoologist could tell about tigers, it was that you should never leave a tiger hungry.

“Wha-? How can we be done already?” she wailed.

“I don’t know, maybe Sakura and I didn’t have enough ingredients today?” Shirou said absently. What he didn’t want to say of course, was that he set some food aside for Saber when Sakura wasn’t looking.

“UNACCEPTABLE!” Taiga roared, flipping the table. “How am I supposed to properly educate young minds without a full stomach?!”

Before Shirou could respond to his mood-swinging teacher, Saber appeared in the doorway.

“Praetor! Is everything alright?” She shouted, with a tense expression.

In the ensuing silence from Sakura and Taiga, Shirou was sure he could have heard a pin drop.

* * *

“SHIROU!!! WHO IS THIS GIRL?!?!” Taiga roared at a volume loud enough to shake the house.

Saber smirked. While the enraged shouts and sound of furniture flying made her worried that her Praetor was in danger, it seemed that the bombastic woman responsible for all the chaos was actually this “Fuji-nee” who apparently served as Shirou’s teacher.

“I can explain, I swear!” Shirou stammered in a panic.

It was obvious to Saber that the poor boy had very little experience at lying or thinking on his feet. It was doubtful that the redhead would create a convincing reason to have a new girl in his house, but Saber knew she could. After all, any good actress must be skilled in the art of improv.

“Have no fear, Praetor,” Saber gallantly stated. “I shall explain everything!”

“Oh really?” Taiga asked incredulously. “Who are you and what are you doing in Shirou’s house?”

Saber smiled inwardly. It was time for her first real performance before an audience since her summoning. She’d do everything she could to make the audience love her; further demonstrating her magnificence to the teen who summoned her.

With a small use of her mana, Saber again activated her Imperial Privilege ability, using it to enhance her Charisma rating.

“You may call me... Augusta,” the blonde said with a smile. “How I came to be with dear Shirou is a long and tragic story.”

* * *

Shirou stared in silent shock as “Augusta” gave a _very_ long monologue to Taiga and Sakura. She claimed to come from an upper-class family in Europe, but was constantly belittled and abused by her parents, so she ran away from home and wandered all over the earth in search of happiness.

“A-and then, when I a-arrived in Japan, someone stole all my money” Saber wept, large overly-dramatic tears rolling down her cheeks.

Shirou had no idea what sort of power Saber had to make anyone think that such an implausibly dramatic story could be real. In all honestly, Augusta’s “backstory” seemed like it belonged on a bad soap opera. Though, he probably would have been swayed by it as well if it weren’t for the fact that Shirou suspected the entire thing to be made up by his Servant on the spot.

“Alas!” Saber cried out, dramatically placing a hand against her forehead. “I wandered, lost and confused, until dear Shirou found me and offered a place to stay.”

Sakura wiped a tissue against her damp eyes and turned to him. “Sempai, you’re so kind.”

Taiga loudly blew her nose before putting a comforting hand on the blonde’s shoulder. “That was the saddest story I’ve ever heard,” she said sympathetically. “I don’t care if you are a freeloader, you can stay with Shirou for as long as you want.”

“Huh?” Shirou gaped.

He couldn’t believe that Saber’s story actually worked. Fuji-nee was notoriously strict about Shirou being around any girls other than Sakura, though he wasn’t sure why. There was no way that the Tiger of Fuyuki would let a potential moocher live with him without at least challenging the potential guest in some way.

Taiga dramatically turned to face the redhead. “Shirou, you’d better take care of Augusta,” the woman said with the utmost seriousness. “The poor girl’s been through enough as it is.”

Not sure how to respond to all this, Shirou shot Saber a glance. She winked and nodded. Again, Shirou found himself amazed that this had worked.

With a nod, the teen said, “Of course I will, Fuji-nee.”

* * *

Soon after her introduction to “Augusta” Taiga realized that she was running late for school... again. She offered to give Sakura a ride to Archery practice and the two soon speed off to the school, again leaving Shirou and Saber alone in the Emiya house.

“That was quite a story,” Shirou said with a smirk towards Saber as the blonde wolfed down the breakfast he had set aside for her.

She elegantly wiped her mouth and swelled with pride. “It was nothing,” she smiled confidently. “For a great performer of my caliber, it was a simple enough task.”

Shirou smiled as he packed his backpack for class. He was going to need to leave soon if he didn’t want to rush. His ribs were still stiff and tender from getting hit with a Reinforced punch the night before. Though Shirou had always been a strangely fast healer for some reason, a fractured bone would usually take at least three days to fully heal.

“You know,” Shirou absently remarked to the petite blonde. “I’m sorry for not asking this sooner, but what Heroic Spirit are you anyway?”

Saber’s bright green eyes widened while her face lit up with a regal smile. “While anyone with a nature as regal as mine should properly answer whatever questions about ourselves we can, I don’t think I should tell you who I am,” she said, somewhat disappointed. “An enemy Master or Servant could draw the information from your mind and compromise us.”

Saber’s hand suddenly shot out and gently grasped Shirou’s as if she were a knight making a vow to a maiden. “However,” she said happily, “any artist loves to be known and recognized. The fact that you want to properly identify my glory has made me immensely happy.”

Shirou smiled awkwardly, still unsure how to respond to the very strange, beautiful girl he had for a Servant. “That’s good to know, Saber. I hope we can make each other happy when we work together.”

Saber smiled and firmly gripped Shirou by the wrist, and gestured for him to do the same. The girl grinned and quickly shook his arm.

“I’m sure you will, Praetor.”

* * *


	6. One Saber, Two Saber?

* * *

It took a good deal of talking, but Shirou finally managed to convince Saber that it would be safe to go to school without her. Apparently, Saber thought it would be easy enough to convince the entire student body of his high school of her sob story, since it worked so well on Fuji-nee and Sakura. While, admittedly, it probably would, Shirou didn’t want anyone else to know that he had a girl living with him. He’s never hear the end of it.

As Shirou walked, his mind became lost in thought planning for the future. There were still three Servants he’d yet to encounter: Caster, Rider, and Lancer. Who knew how powerful and dangerous they could be. Heck, even the other Masters seemed more effective than him. Rin took a Reinforced blow like it was a mild inconvenience and that strange Bazett woman hit with the force of a truck.

He had never felt so useless before in his life. How could any aspiring hero be so weak? Until recently, Shirou had been quite content helping others in any small way he could. If one wanted to change the world, it seemed reasonable to start small and work up to bigger and better deeds. But that just wouldn’t cut it anymore. if Shirou truly wanted to be a hero and protect Fuyuki, he couldn’t spend the whole Grail War relying on others.

If Shirou hadn’t been so lost in thought, he might have noticed a pair of girls across the street. He may have noticed that the younger one was watching him very intently. He also may have noticed that the older girl in the black suit looked suspiciously familiar. Oddest of all though, was that the boy failed to notice that his ribs didn’t hurt nearly as much as they had when he woke up. If the young magus had actually noticed any of these strange things, his day would have been far different.

* * *

Ilya narrowed her eyes when her brother passed her down the street. His Servant was nowhere to be seen. Thanks to her closeness with the Grail System, she knew that he’d managed to summon _something._

“Now’s our chance, Lancer,” the homunculus said to her Servant.

Lancer frowned. “Master, the War is not to be fought during the day. It would go against all rules of Chivalry to attack a defenseless man.”

The little homunculus glared at her Servant. It was times like this she’d summoned a Berserker. A mindless rage machine wouldn’t object to things like this.

“Lancer,” Ilya said sternly, “don’t make me use a Command Seal for this.”

“You won’t need to force me into anything if we wait until night,” Lancer said after a moment.

Ilya glared at the blonde woman. Her Servant’s gaze never wavered.

It was times like this that made Ilya wish she’d gotten a Berserker instead. Her family had tried bending the rules of the class system again by trying to summon the legendary King Arthur not as a Saber, but as a Berserker to further increase the King of Knights’s attack power. Unfortunately, something in the ritual had gone wrong, so instead they had summoned her as a Lancer, much to the displeasure of Ilya’s grandfather.

Instead of getting one of history’s greatest heroes as a mindless killing machine with strength increased to rival Hercules himself, Ilya was stuck with a foolishly noble girl with reduced strength and increased speed. Really, the only good thing to come out of it were the _interesting_ combination of Noble Phantasms the Lancer class gave to the King of the Britons.

The seemingly-little girl sighed. “Fine,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “If you’ll actually make me waste a command seal now, we can wait.”

Lancer smiled triumphantly. “I knew you’d see the light, Master.”

“So then,” the homunculus said with an eerily pleasant smile, “what should we do while we wait for my dear onii-chan to get out of school?”

For some reason that Ilya couldn’t place, Lancer’s expression seemed to brighten.

“Oh I believe I know just the activity,” the Servant said with an enigmatic smile.

* * *

Saber sat in the darkest room of the Emiya Estate she could find, holding an ice pack to her head. She hated mornings. They were always the worst for her head.

In retrospect, Saber had gotten **very** lucky that she’d been able to act her way through breakfast with her Master’s pseudo-family. Ever since her vile manipulator of a mother had died and taken the medicine recipe with her, Saber had been plagued by maddeningly awful headaches. She could force herself though the pain without much worry thanks to her incredible strength and willpower.

No, the true reason Saber hated this curse left by her mother was what it did to her mind. Whenever the blonde tried to focus on an artistic task that she enjoyed, the headaches would often set in at a rapid pace and destroy whatever focus she had.

‘ _Probably dear mother’s way of showing continued disdain for my interests_. _Even from beyond the grave,’_ she often found herself thinking.

Eventually, surrounded by nothing but the calming darkness of the back room and the soothing coolness of the ice, Saber’s finally headache abated. The petite warrior let out a grateful sigh and exited the room.

The rest of the house was quiet and peaceful. While others would call such peace serene, Saber simply thought it was boring.

Someone of her magnificent stature needed constant entertainment and stimulation! Peace had its merits, but it was so boring.

She was never one to sit down and allow herself to relax. In her family, the second someone started relaxing, they usually found themselves on the wrong end of an assassin’s knife.

Still wishing she’d accompanied her Master to his school, Saber entered the house’s living room and noticed the... _television_. Thanks to her connection with the Grail, the blonde Servant was given nuggets of knowledge to help adapt to modern life.

“So, _this_ is what people use for entertainment instead of going to plays or circuses,” she said with a contemplative look on her lovely face.

She quickly located the... _remote_ and pointed it at the television, turning it on. A woman appeared on screen reciting a list of notable events that occurred in the past day. She was watching a news report.

“I suppose this is more efficient than a herald,” the former emperor mused.

Making herself comfortable, Saber took a seat in front of the TV, quite curious to see what passed for entertainment these days.

* * *

When he stepped through the gate of his high school, Hamurahara Gakuren, Shirou collapsed onto his knees as an incredible jolt of pain shot through his body. Then, as quickly as it came, the feeling of agony vanished.

Shirou stayed doubled-over, taking deep breaths until he heard someone approach him.

“Oh. So you sense it too, Emiya-kun?”

Shirou looked up to see Rin staring down at hi, looking as poised and elegant as she always di when she was at school.

“Tohsaka, what the hell did I just feel?” the redhead asked in a panicked whisper.

“It seems that someone has set up a very strong bounded field around the school. Probably another Master and Servant,” Rin said matter-of-factly.

Shirou’s eyes widened in shock. “My house has a bounded field around it. It didn’t feel a thing like this,” he said, shaking off the foreboding feeling he had. He looked toward the top of the school and was shocked to realize that the entire school building seemed to be covered in a red-tinted membrane.

“Tohsaka,” Shirou stammered, “what kind of bounded field is this?”

The girl’s expression turned far more serious as she said, “The cannibalistic kind.”

* * *

Shinji Matou sat in class, eagerly awaiting for night to come. Tonight, he and his new Servant would go hunting to increase her strength. Then, in a few days, the Blood Fort would activate and give Rider more strength than any other Servant in the entire Grail War.

This was his chance. He could finally prove himself to all those idiots in his life who ignored and belittled him! The grandfather who called him worthless, the dead father who neglected and lied to him about his family’s nature, and the uncle who only cared about rescuing his bitch of a sister, but would gladly leave him to rot with Zouken.

Did he not matter? Was he so pathetic that not even his _real_ family cared about him when compared to his worm of a sister?

He hated them all. Zouken. Uncle Kariya. His father. But most of all, he hated Sakura. She ruined his life; she stole his title as heir, stole his chance to be a magus, and stole the one real friendship he ever had.

But most of all, he hated that she pitied him.

How dare some pathetic worm of a girl have the gall to look down on him! He was the one with the true Matou blood; Sakura was just a piece of meat his bastard of a grandfather needed to keep the magic from leaving the gene pool.

But that didn’t matter anymore. Since Sakura was too much of a coward to do her duty and join the Holy Grail War, Shinji had been given command of Rider. He would finally prove himself to all those idiots who dared to look down on him. He’d win the Holy Grail and finally get his wish to be a real magus.

And then, everyone would pay.

* * *

Ilya stared wide-eyed at the sight before her. Lancer smiled kindly and took her hand, guiding her closer.

“The ocean,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

It really was. The water was bluer than anything the little homunculus had ever imagined. She took a moment to savor the feeling of the warmth of the sun shining down on her pale features.

Her blonde Servant bent down and removed the polished black shoes she wore with her tailored suit. Neatly discarding her footwear, the King of Knights removed her socks and rolled up her pants legs.

Ilya stared at this in mild confusion. “L-Lancer, what are you doing?”

“Doing what an old friend would have wanted me to do,” the blonde said somewhat cryptically.

Lancer purposely walked forward into the water, quietly laughing at a some sort of private joke Ilya didn’t understand. After a moment, Lancer turned toward her Master expectantly.

“Well,” she asked her tone semi-serious, “aren’t you going to join me?”

Ilya’s expression brightened considerably as she hastily threw off her purple boots and held onto  the hem of her skirt, not wanting it to get wet.

Cautiously, she stepped out into the water and gasped. The sand beneath her toes was so warm, but the water was so cool. The contrast between what both of her feet were feeling was incredible. Then, a small wave came in, splashing the red eyed girl. She couldn’t help but laugh; it all felt so amazing.

For the first time in her life, Ilya felt completely at ease. For a moment, she wasn’t the daughter of the noble and ancient Einzbern family or the vessel of the Lesser Grail. She was just a girl, enjoying the warmth of the sun, the water around her ankles, and the gentle salty breeze blowing through her silvery hair.

Lancer gently smiled at the sight of her Master running and splashing through the shallow water of the beach. Sometimes she forgot that underneath that cold exterior was a lonely girl who needed the chance to be herself. It was something that she had forgone in exchange for kingship, but it should not be something that Ilya should exchange for the glory of her family.

The blonde Servant was brought from her musings when a _very_ cold splash of water hit her in the upper body. Lancer’s unamused gaze fell on Ilya, who was grinning impishly.

With the grace and nobility fitting a king, Lancer calmly bent down and splashed Ilya, soaking the girl’s purple blouse.

Ilya felt her cheeks redden slightly as she angrily pointed at her servant. “You’ll pay for that!” she cried in mock anger.

“If that were to be true, _Master_ ,” Lancer said in the most serious tone she could manage. “Then you’d have to catch me first.”

Like a bolt of lightning, Lancer was off, running and splashing through the shallow water of the incoming tide. Ilya chased after her, laughing happily the entire time, the Grail War and her plans for her “big brother” for once forgotten.

It was times like this that Ilya was happy she didn’t get a Berserker.

* * *

Shirou suppressed a yawn as he exited the grounds of the school with Rin at his side. It was getting surprisingly close to dusk. The two of them had stayed behind after school to track down and destroy as many magic circles as possible.

It was ultimately an effort in futility. The circles seemed to slowly repair themselves over time. If they wanted to do more than just delay the inevitable, the Master-Servant pair responsible had to be brought out of the shadows and defeated before the bounded field could properly activate and risk killing their entire school.

As the two allies walked down the road towards their respective homes, Shirou’s mind began to wander.

If the school had been targeted by a Servant for some sort of prana creation ritual, did that mean there was actually yet _another_ magus that he had been secretly been classmates with for years? In fact, the only adult Master he and Rin had encountered had been that Bazett woman. Was it possible that the Holy Grail War was being fought almost entirely by children?

_‘No, that would be ridiculous,’_ he thought to himself, banishing such a foolish train of thought.

Just as the sun set over the horizon, they neared the road that went in opposite directions to their houses, Shirou noticed that Rin was still following him.

“Uh, Tohsaka,” he cautiously stated, “isn’t your house in the other direction?”

She huffed in annoyance and fiddled with one of her pigtails, avoiding his gaze. “Its not like I’m following you. It’s simply more convenient if allies stick together as much as possible.”

“Oh. Well okay,” Shirou responded rather brightly.

“As such, we will have all dinners at your place before we have a strategy meeting,” the girl continued, never losing her professorial tone, even if her real motives were now plainly obvious.

“You know Rin, if you wanted me to invite you to dinner, you could have just asked,” Shirou said, suppressing a chuckle.

The beautiful magus scowled at him. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” she stated, ignoring the slight redness of her cheeks.

They continued their walk much like that, bantering lightly with one another until they caught sight of a little girl happily skipping in their direction a few blocks from his house.

She looked to be no more than twelve years old, but her hair was as white as snow. Her skin was strangely pale as well, giving her an ethereal snow fairy-like appearance. He wasn’t sure how exactly, but Shirou was sure he’d seen the girl somewhere else before.

Unfortunately, the redheaded magus was too busy focusing on the silver-haired girl to notice that Rin had stopped dead in her tracks, or to notice that a streak of blue and silver had emerged from the nearby bushes.

The loud clang of metal on metal violently brought Shirou from his thoughts.

Archer had appeared next to him, a blade in each hand holding off the strike of a woman in an armored blue dress. One who looked disturbingly familiar.

“S-Saber?!” Shirou gaped in shock.

* * *


	7. Red Saber, Blue Saber

* * *

Archer had spent most of the day in silence, healing in his astral form. It gave the Servant of the bow some much-needed time to think.

It was only a matter of time until Ilya came to kill the idiot. And since Cú Chulainn had been summoned as Berserker, it meant that the Hercules they would soon face would be _sane_. That thought was terrifying to the Counter Guardian on a number of levels.

The real question though was what Class Hercules would be. Since they had spent most of the past day removing the Blood Fort’s magic circles, it seemed that this War’s Rider was the one he knew. And the presence of the Sasaki Kojiro as Assassin most likely meant that the Caster he knew was also the same (though it still didn’t explain how the hell the fake Servant had obtained enough prana to go beyond the temple gates).

This probably meant that Hercules and Ireland’s Man of Light had somehow switched classes, meaning that, any day now, they would be attacked by a Lance-wielding Son of Zeus.

So imagine his surprise when he intercepted an enemy’s lance only to find himself staring into a pair of beautiful emerald eyes.

Saber. The _real_ Saber.

Somehow, his sister and the Einzberns had summoned Arthuria Pendragon again.

_‘What the hell is going on?!’_

Before Archer could continue that eloquent train of thought, the silvery lance in the blonde’s hands broke his guard and came at him again in a rapid, diagonal slash.

At the last second, the tanned Servant performed a tuck and roll, barely dodging the strike. It was clear that Arthuria was not _quite_ as skilled with a lance as she was with a blade, but _damn_ she was fast.

* * *

“S-Saber?!” Shirou gaped in shock at the sight of Archer trading blows with his Servant... or at least her doppleganger. It was almost erie how similar they looked, were it not for the fact that he doubted Saber would ever wear a dress so... _concealing_ , he’d have assumed they were the same person.

It was when Archer deflected her second strike that Shirou remembered the little girl down the street. Servants were _incredibly_ dangerous; his previous encounters with Assassin and Berserker had more than proved that. She was in danger! He had to do something.

Without thinking of the risk to himself, or acknowledging Tohsaka calling after him, Shirou charged forward towards the girl in purple.

In an instant, the redhead was down the street and crouched in front of the little girl. Her whole body was tense, staring at him with wide, red eyes.

“This place is very dangerous, little girl,” he said to her with the most reassuring smile he could. He didn’t want to scare her. “Want me to take you somewhere safe?”

* * *

Ilya smiled at the sight of Lancer rushing towards her brother. Though the Servant continued to protest her idea of performing a sneak attack, the threat of a Command Spell set her straight.

Of course, it would have been a bit more satisfying to see the look of fear in her brother’s eyes as he realized the end was near. But a quick and efficient death had its benefits too.

Ilya’s mother and father had and abandoned her, leaving the little homunculus with her cold, uncaring family. She knew she would serve as a sacrifice for the Grail and never get her wish. Killing the brother who ruined her life would mean she could at least die without regrets.

So why was it that when face to face with the boy who ruined her life she found herself speechless? Why was he smiling at her so kindly? Wasn’t this the evil boy who ruined her family?

Maybe it was a trap? Was he trying to get close to her so he could kill her?

Or maybe, some small part of her psyche pointed out, maybe she had been wrong about him.

In the end, it didn’t matter. He needed to die so the little homunculus could have her one chance at happiness for the short amount of time she had left on this earth.

He smiled gently at her as the clangs of metal on metal rang out behind them in the night. With a gobsmacked look still plastered on her face, the vessel of the Lesser Grail looked over the teen’s shoulder to see Lancer locked in battle with a sword-wielding Servant clad in black and red.

It was obvious from how fast Lancer was moving that she’d soon slip past the Servant’s defense and resume her ordered attack on the boy crouching in front of her. Thinking quickly, Ilya realized that she would need to play-up the helpless little girl act that her brother had assumed her to be if she wanted to keep him in her sights.

She looked back at the redhead and began to tremble, feigning terror. “Help me, onii-chan,” she squeaked. “I’m scared.”

The teen stood to his full height and put a reassuring hand on the girls soft, silvery hair. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

Suddenly, a hissing screech rang out through the night. Before Ilya could react, her brother tackled her, clutching her in his arms and twisting through the air. There was a loud boom and a flash of bright silvery light that made the girl’s vision go white.

When they landed and her vision returned, Ilya found herself lying on the ground behind Shirou, who stood protectively in front of her.

In front of them was Lancer, pulling her thrown spear from a small crater in the ground. The blonde Servant glared at the magus, her emerald eyes livid.

“I will only say this once,” the King of Knights growled. “Do _not_ hurt my Master.”

* * *

Arthuria had not liked this Grail War from the instant she had been summoned. Not only had the cynical and manipulative Einzbern family summoned her again, but in a sick twist, had partnered her with the daughter of Kiritsugu and Iri.

Stranger still though was her class. The King of Knights had always thought herself to only qualify for the Saber class, due mainly to the oddities of her nature as a Heroic Spirit. As she had yet technically die in her original time period, it should have been impossible for the blonde knight to be summoned with any weapons that were not immediately on hand, thus limiting her to the Saber class. It seemed though that either the Einzbern’s tampering with the class system or their summoning catalyst thought differently.

_Somehow_ , the German mages had found Rhongowennan, her mighty spear.

Though not nearly famous as Excalibur or Caliburn, the long silver spear was just as much as part of her legend as the Round Table or the quest for the Holy Grail. After Caliburn had been broken in battle, but before the Lady of the Lake granted her The Sword of Promised Victory, Merlin gave her Rhongowennan - _The Lance of Holy Destruction._

Much like Avalon, the blonde never thought she’d see it again after her final battle with Mordred. She wasn’t sure she wanted to. The sight of her homunculus son pull himself forward on the spear, impaling himself even further, in a vain attempt to give her a fatal blow was the final nail in the coffin of tragic regrets that had been her rule.

But above all else, Arthuria was a true and obedient knight. She would use Rhongowennan as long as she was this War’s Lancer.

With that in mind, she again parried a strike from her opponent’s white falchion. His style was exceptionally unorthodox - nearly even suicidal - leaving what seemed to be intentional openings in his defense.

“You’ll get yourself killed, fighting like that,” she mused aloud at her opponent.

“What makes you think it didn’t already?” the tanned man said with a smirk.

He then hurled his black blade at her. The blonde easily deflected the weapon with a twirl of her spear and charged forward. With a series of rapid thrusts, she pushed the man back, but never managed more than a glancing blow. It was obvious that while he was well versed in combat, he was not this War’s Saber. His blows didn’t have the typical overwhelming strength or skill.

The girl in red who was obviously his Master tried to run past the two Servants, yelling at the top of her lungs. The red-clad man held out his arm protectively, blocking her path and keeping the girl from entering striking range of Rhongowennan.

“Archer, let me through,” the teen commanded. “Emiya’s gonna get himself killed at this rate.”

It was then that Lancer took the time to glance over her shoulder to see her original target, Kiritsugu’s apparent son and her Master’s brother, looming over the small form of Ilya.

The red Servant, Archer, had tricked her. He made sure to keep her attentions not only focused on him, but also facing away from her Master for the entirety of their skirmish.

Because of her foolishness, her Master was now face to face with the enemy. If the redhead had truly been raised by Kiritsugu of all people, he was likely to be a cold, pragmatic killer. Ilya was probably in even more danger now than she had ever been.

Before she could charge at the enemy magus and protect Ilya, Archer again appeared in front of her, blocking her path.

“You’re not escaping that easily,” he said with a growl.

Lancer’s body tensed. Without a word, she drew back her lance and threw it at an amazing speed thanks to the added strength of her Prana Burst skill. The silvery spear zoomed past the Archer before he could block it. Then, using the naturally high speed of the Lancer class, she bobbed and weaved around the Servant before he could even react.

Rhongowennan flew at the teen with a loud hiss as it began to glow gently. In one of the countless battles of her life, Arthuria had once managed to kill nine men in single throw of the spear, so hitting him would be all too easy.

The redhead tensed and dove at Ilya, dodging the spear just before it struck the ground with a small silvery-white explosion. While the blonde liked how effective it was at combatting evil or corrupted opponents, she did not appreciate the spear’s thirst for blood and destruction. The fact that Kiritsugu’s son dodged it proved his reflexes and instincts were impressive at the very least.

She stopped to retrieve her weapon, not wanting to resort to her other Noble Phantasm unless she had to; a Servant was supposed to protect their identity after all.

The teen stood on shaky legs, blocking her from seeing the sight of her semi-conscious Master. He threw out his arms in protective pose similar to Archer’s and locked gazes with the girl.

“Don’t come any closer,” he quietly said, his golden eyes as hard as steel.

* * *

Saber was getting worried. It was now just after sunset and her Master had yet to come home. The maiden he was wooing and his tutor would probably show up soon for another delicious meal.

With a sudden sense of dread Saber sensed a pair of Servants battling not too far from the house. Her Master and his allies must have been ambushed.

She cursed quietly in her native tongue and rushed from her Master’s large manor donning her military-style dress for battle and summoning her beloved blade.

If she could feel the battle so precisely, why had her Master not used a Command Seal to call her forth? Something or someone must have been preventing him from doing so. After all, only a fool would willingly rush in to battle completely unprotected.

* * *

Shirou Emiya felt like a fool. 

“I will only say this once,” the Saber look-alike growled. “Do _not_ hurt my Master.”

He had been so focused on trying to save the little girl behind him from the spear-wielding maniac and prevent another innocent’s death, that he’d failed to consider that she might be an enemy Master.

With a growing sense of dread, Shirou turned to see the little girl he’d been trying to save slowly stand and smile at him. While her gaze before had been that of a small, scared girl, this new one was colder than most blizzards.

“Lancer,” the girl said with a sickeningly sweet voice, “kill him.”

And so for the second night in a row, Shirou was going to die.

Time seemed to slow as the Servant’s lance came forward. Shirou hated this. He was tired of being useless and weak. A Hero was supposed to be strong enough to fend for himself and protect the weak. Maybe things would be different if he had a weapon...

Just before the silver tip of the lance reached him, the Servant in blue had been kicked in the head by a golden heeled boot and sent flying into a nearby tree.

“Have no fear, Praetor. For like all great heroes, I have arrived in the nick of time!” Saber proudly proclaimed, her head held high in the air.

“What the _hell_ is going on?” the little girl behind Shirou gaped.

* * *

Arthuria was quite confused as she removed her head from the hollow of a tree. Somehow, an enemy Servant had concealed their presence to sneak up and cowardly attack while her back was turned. However, there was no way an Assassin-class Servant would be strong enough to put such force into a roundhouse kick.

However, no thought was more pressing than, _‘Why the hell does that girl look like_ ** _me_** _?’_

Standing in the middle of the damaged sidewalk, was a blonde, teenage girl who could have passed for her twin. Which made it all the worse when the former King of the Britons could see her copy’s panties... which effectively meant people could see _her_ panties.

Blushing scarlet, Lancer rushed towards her scandalous doppleganger, her weapon held at the ready.

* * *

Rin Tohsaka was _not_ amused. Not only had her ally for this War blindly rushed into battle and ignored her shouts of warning. There was no way an innocent little girl would just happen to show up at the same time as an attacking Servant. She was obviously the enemy Master, and a homunculus from the looks of her hair and eyes.

The jewel-user had been too tired from a day of trying to stop the school’s bounded field from activating to notice that they had just _entered_ another one; a very subtle one. Any non-magical individual who entered it would likely be compelled to turn away. It helped explain the lack of response from the neighboring homes to the sounds of fighting.

The fact that her Archer wouldn’t let her get any closer to Shirou made things worse. Of course, he was right to protect her from the battle, but that didn’t mean she liked it. Yet another thing annoying her was that not only did a novice like Emiya manage to summon a Saber, another Master seemed to have done so as well.

It was unheard of. How could the same spirit be summoned in two different classes in the same War? The closest thing to this she’d ever heard of was when twin sisters of the Edfelt family managed to summon two aspects of the same spirit as the Saber class servant of the Third Holy Grail War.

Once the blue pseudo-Saber ran past Archer to attack Shirou, Rin saw her chance and ran forward. A tanned hand unceremoniously clamped down on the collar of her sweater and lifted her off the ground.

“Archer, put me down,” the brunette girl growled.

“I’m not letting you get killed too, Rin,” Archer said in his usual detached tone.

Rin turned her glare away from the bowman just in time to see Saber emerge from seemingly nowhere and kick her blue look-alike down the street before a fatal blow could be dealt.

“Since when does a Saber have Presence Concealment?” she asked in confusion to nobody in particular.

* * *

Shirou had never been so relieved to see someone before in his life. At least, that was until Saber turned her glowering face on him.

“We will have words when we are finished here, Praetor,” the blonde commanded.

The redhead swallowed nervously and nodded, not wanting to piss off the girl strong enough to lift a street light and bash someone over the head with it.

The petite girl then focused her livid lime eyes at the albino girl standing nearby.

“Identify yourself, magus!” Saber commanded while hefting her massive black and scarlet blade. 

In a flash, her blue-clad counterpart reappeared next to the girl, stepping forward in a show of protection.

Saber jaw dropped and stared in wide-eyed shock at the other Servant.

“Y-you look like me...” his Servant stammered.

“I should be the one saying that,” the one in blue said accusingly.

Now that they were side by side for comparison, the redhead could see that while they were _very_ similar looking, they weren’t identical. Saber was a few inches shorter with a far more curvaceous figure, while Lancer’s eyes were a darker shade of green, looking like fresh-cut emeralds. But even with their similar bodies, the way they carried themselves couldn’t be any more different.

Lancer’s back was ramrod straight, like an experienced soldier, while her deep green eyes held a sense of life experience that didn’t fit the youth of her face. Conversely, Saber carried herself with the precise grace of a dancer or performer, her head always held high and her eyes full of enthusiasm, even now when she turned excitedly to the teen.

“Praetor,” she said eagerly, “it seems I have already acquired a fan. Truly, my adoring public follows me from one life to the next!”

“That is _not_ the case. I assure you,” the Servant in blue uttered icily.

The only outward indication of annoyance was Lancer’s twitching eyebrow and a tightened grip on her weapon.

* * *

Ilya was confused. Not only did her brother seem to be far less evil than she originally thought, but he had somehow summoned what appeared to be a copy of her Servant.

“Master,” Lancer said in a tense voice as the other Master-Servant pair approached. “It appears we are outnumbered.”

“Who are you?” the girl in red, most likely the Tohsaka heir, asked with a glare.

Ilya smiled sweetly, still confident in the power of the King of Knights to defeat all opponents... even if one of them was her clone.

“I am Ilyasviel von Einzbern,” she said with a polite curtsy. “And my Lancer is going to destroy you.”

The red-clone of Lancer pouted. “Truly, it would be a shame to fight and risk destroying such beauty,” she said with a dramatic flair.

“Good to see you’re so humble, Saber,” the Tohsaka said in a flat tone.

“Humility does not give one the legendary status of a hero,” Saber said crisply. She then focused her gaze back at Lancer, looking surprisingly intense.

Her Servant returned the glare, adjusting her stance to prepare for attack.

“Servant,” Lancer said with a growl, “what ability has allowed you to steal my appearance?”

Saber cocked an eyebrow in confusion. “Funny. I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Ilya chuckled. It was rare to see Lancer get so worked up over something. _‘Though I’d be mad too if someone with my face was dressed like that,’_ she mentally added.

“Honestly, you should all just give up now,” Ilya said with a haughty chuckle. “You’re looking at the invincible King Arthur. You two don’t stand a chance.”

Lancer sighed and put an armored hand to her face. “Master, you shouldn’t be saying things like that,” she said with the tone a parent would use while scolding a naughty child.

Ilya knew it was a faux pas to reveal the identity of your Servant, but it was doubtful that anyone would even come close to the legendary strength of King Arthur, even if **she** wasn’t quite what most would expect from the Once and Future King. So that made it okay to brag, right?

Unfortunately, Ilya had been too focused on the Servants and lost in her own thoughts to notice the fact that her brother had been completely silent since she first introduced herself.

“Lancer. Attack,” she commanded with glee.

* * *

Shirou stared at the little girl and her Servant in horrified silence.

Von Einzbern.

He had only heard that name once before, but it was on a night that had been burned into his memory almost as much as the night he spent in the hellish agony of the Great Fuyuki Fire. It was the night he had lost the man he had dedicated his life to emulating and the only time Kiritsugu had ever told his son a thing about his personal history.

_‘Her name was Irisviel von Einzbern and I lost her in my quest to be a hero.’_

The woman who could have been his mother had that name. No matter who this girl attacking him was, she was likely his family.

Compared to that bomb being dropped, the revelation that King Arthur was a girl seemed tame.

In an instant, the teen was violently pulled from his thoughts by Saber appearing in front of him to block a strike from Lancer.

The Servant in blue broke away from Saber’s block to dodge a sword launched from seemingly nowhere by Rin’s Archer. Together, Saber and Archer took turns attacking Lancer, neither ever managing to so much as scratch the young woman in blue.

Her entire body moved with the precision and grace of a well-oiled machine; not a single movement wasted. Her skill with the long weapon gave her a distinct advantage over the close-combat oriented Saber while her extreme speed allowed her to easily dodge the long range attacks from Archer.

Shirou, for once, found himself caring very little about trying to intervene in the fight. There was a much more pressing matter to attend to.

* * *

Saber was confused. Her connection to the Throne of Heroes allowed her to know of King Arthur’s legend, but that did nothing to explain why the legendary King could be mistaken for her homely sister.

Then again, Saber herself was not quite what modern history would remember, so who was she to judge?

With a burst of prana, her mighty sword was engulfed in flames. She brought the burning blade down in an overhead strike at Lancer’s head. Her look-alike blocked the attack with her spear, before slipping the weapon out from under the sword and striking at Saber’s mid-section.

At the last second, Saber was able to twist her body away from the attack, receiving only a minor cut on the side of her abdomen. She grinned and returned the favor, striking at Lancer’s shoulder, exploiting the small opening in the girl’s defense. Lancer quickly raised an armored gauntlet up, stopping the attack from reaching her un-armored body part.

However, the heat of the sword, coupled with Saber’s herculean strength, allowed her to cut a deep gash into the girl’s left forearm. Before Saber could slash again, a burst of prana surrounded the King of Knight’s arm as she delivered a swift blow against Saber’s head with the side of her spear.

Saber was sent tumbling down the street, her world still spinning even as she stopped.

* * *

Shirou cautiously approached the little girl, Ilyasviel, he reminded himself.

She glared at him as he drew nearer, her body growing tense. The redhead stopped his advance, not wanting to scare her into doing something drastic.

“I’ve heard your name before,” Shirou said solemnly. “Or at least one like it,” he quickly added.

“That’s not surprising, considering who our father is,” she said with an intensely bitter loathing that shouldn’t belong to someone her age.

_‘_ **_Our_ ** _father.’_

Shirou stared at the girl in absolute shock.

“Y-you’re my sister?” he asked in breathless disbelief.

A sister. He had a little sister and he never even knew it. Why had Kiritsugu never mentioned this?!

* * *

Ilya felt her expression sour even more at the look of absolute confusion on her brother’s face.

“You seem surprised,” she said darkly.

“Dad never mentioned you,” he answered, still in seeming shock. “Only Irisviel, mom, once.”

Never mentioned her?! Not only had her father abandoned her for this idiot, but he ignored his wife and daughter for years?

Ilya’s whole field of vision became a white hot screen of rage except for the figure of the boy before her. 

She wanted her revenge to be completed by hearing the cried, frantic apologies of her brother for how much he had ruined her life, and he didn’t even know she existed?

With a scream that pierced the night, the little homunculus pooled all her anger into a single thought, a single Command.

* * *

Shirou’s blood ran cold when Ilya, his sister, screamed like that.

It held all the emotion and pain of the countless people he passed that night in hell ten years ago. All the people he ignored to save himself. All the lives lost because of him.

He never wanted to hear or see someone in that state of absolute rage and despair again, but here it was, right in front of him.

“Lancer!” his sister cried, angry tears streaming down her face. “By the power of this Command Seal, I order you to kill my brother!”

In the blink of an eye, Shirou felt it happen. The silvery tip of a spear emerged from between his ribs, utterly destroying one of his lungs.

He looked into the emerald eyes of his attacker, who looked just as shocked at her actions as he did.

“I am sorry,” Lancer said quietly as she pulled back her spear.

He heard more noises and distant shouts, but none of them made sense to the magus as he collapsed to the cold hard sidewalk, his world growing dark.

* * *


	8. The Power of Acting

* * *

Saber slowly rose, rubbing her temples. That attack from Lancer would **not** be good for her headaches.

“By the power of this Command Seal, I order you to kill my brother!”

The girl’s cry rang out through the night, making Saber’s blood run cold. She whipped around to attack, only to see her Master get stabbed through the chest with Lancer’s spear. She removed the weapon, making Shirou fall to the ground in a pool of his own blood.

“Praetor!” she screamed as fiery rage consumed her being.

* * *

Lancer looked at the boy as he lost the light in his eyes.

Yet another regret to add to her endless list. Perhaps when the Grail granted her wish and took away her kingship, the boy’s life would be restored as well. She could hope for nothing less.

She pulled Rhongowennan from its place in his chest and watched  him collapse to the ground. With the boy dead, the Grail War would soon be down to six competitors.

Or at least it would be, were it not for the boy she just killed to suddenly start coughing, clearly not dead, though still unconscious.

“How?!” the King of Knights gasped before a soft gold light caught her attention. The puncture wound in his chest was slowly sealing itself as it was encased in a soft glow that felt _very_ familiar. The blonde’s eyes widened in shock as the thought occurred to her.

_Avalon_. Her lost scabbard and final Noble Phantasm. It could heal any wound when her mana was in close proximity... which meant that this boy would be _much_ harder for her to kill than it first seemed.

“Te interficiam!” Saber screamed as the full weight of her massive, jagged sword slammed Lancer into the ground with a strength that had yet to be displayed.

Lancer quickly rose and intercepted a series of rapid blows from Saber’s odd weapon. Her look-alike’s blows were enhanced by short jolts of prana that accompanied each swing of her strange sword.

_Prana Burst_. Somehow, it seemed this mystery Servant could copy the personal skills of other Servants. It certainly explained how she temporarily had the Presence Concealment of the Assassin Class.

“First you steal my appearance and now my skills?” Lancer growled. “Truly, you are low.”

Saber smirked slightly before repositioning herself for another attack. “For your information, _Artorius_ ,” she said with a sneer, “I predate your legend, so you stole _my_ appearance. Is it not fair that I simply return the favor?”

With renewed vigor the blonde in the revealing dress resumed her assault. With her crude imitation of Prana Burst, she was suddenly more than a match for the girl in blue. 

Though he was currently standing back from the fight, guarding his Master, if the mysterious Archer choose to intervene, it would be all too easy to kill Arthuria, and then, Ilya.

* * *

Ilya watched as her brother’s body went still. She wiped the hot, angry tears away from her face in a vain attempt to dry her eyes maintain her outward appearance of dignity.

She had done it. The unwanted brother who ruined her life and stole her father’s love was dead. So why didn’t she feel satisfied? Why did everything about her situation still seem just as bleak and hopeless to the little homunculus? Where was the feeling of closure she had been so desperately hoping for?

Wasn’t this supposed to be how revenge worked?

It was then that her supposedly dead brother coughed and convulsed slightly on the ground. Dead people weren’t supposed to do that, were they?

Ilya was pulled from her musings by Saber’s sudden attack against Lancer.

Why did her Servant look so shocked?

“Master, we must leave _now_ ,” the King of Knights urged, her back to Ilya.

Before the little homunculus could respond, the blonde knight hit her doppleganger with a solid strike of her lance, knocking the enraged Servant backwards. Lancer then quickly scooped Ilya up in her arms and turned to run.

Before they could leave the battlefield, Saber was there, her massive sword ablaze and her eyes burning with a rage hotter than any flame.

“It seems Praetor will live,” she growled dangerously. “That’s more than I can say for you.”

For the first time that night, Ilya actually felt fear for her safety.

The Servant in red charged forward, her blade glowing in a crimson light. “ ** _Aetus Estus!_** ”

A torrent of flames shot forth from the blade in wave of heat and death that soon engulfed the tiny homunculus and her Servant.

* * *

“Put me down, dammit!” Rin shouted, pounding uselessly against Archer’s chest.

“Why?” the tanned Servant asked in a bored tone. “You looking to get impaled too?”

She’d noticed her ally’s convulsion a moment ago. If Shirou wasn’t dead yet, he definitely would be if she didn’t get him away from that psychotic little girl.

It was then that Saber chose to activate her Noble Phantasm, engulfing Ilya and Lancer in a flaming vortex. Bounded field or no bounded field, that attack was bound to get someone’s attention.

“Archer, finish this,” Rin said sternly.

The Servant nodded curtly and put the teen down before again rushing into battle. Without concern for the flames or the danger, Rin Reinforced her limbs and rushed forward to her injured ally. With an only slightly strained grunt, Rin hoisted the unconscious and blood splattered teen over her shoulders and ran from the massive deluge of fire that had engulfed the street.

Or at least, she would have.

Before the brunette could even make it across the street, a strong gust of wind picked up, getting her attention. Whipping around, Rin was shocked to see they mysterious wind blowing out the flames from Saber’s attack. Like Noah parting the sea, Lancer and Ilya emerged from the widening gap within the dissipating fire.

It seemed that the mysterious gale came from Lancer, who seemed to be holding the wind itself in her hands. No, that wasn’t right. It would be more accurate to say that she was holding something in her hands _concealed_ by the wind. And as the mighty winds scattered the flames, an image began to flicker into existence.

It was then, much to her horror, that Rin realized what Lancer, the one and only King Arthur, was in all likelihood holding. While her research into legends and potential Noble Phantasms mentioned King Arthur having a lance, any idiot knew that the King of the Britons was famous for Excalibur, the Sword of Promised Victory.

“Archer!” Rin screamed. “We need to get out of here! Now!”

And, as soon as the wind picked up, it stopped. The flames of Saber’s sword had been completely extinguished. Lancer and Ilya emerged from the ashes, unharmed and _very_ angry.

* * *

Saber’s eyes widened in shock as Lancer countered her Noble Phantasm with almost casual ease. It was even more shocking to see a _Lancer_ , wielding a sword of all things. First Assassin, then Archer, and now her. Did _anyone_ in this war follow the class system rules?!

Lancer turned towards her, eyes ablaze. The girl in blue pointed her brilliant golden sword at Saber, who couldn’t help but stare at the weapon. It was without a doubt, the most beautifully constructed item she’d ever seen. While her silvery lance could be compared to the moon; dark, but beautiful in its own way; her sword was like the sun; light, strength, and near-limitless power.

In that instant, Saber knew she couldn’t win. Releasing the power of her mighty sword had cost far more of her prana than she’d anticipated. Her link with Shirou must have been tenuous at best. Using her _ultimate_ Noble Phantasm would be even more costly, and likely kill her.

Therefore, she’d have to rely on her greatest skill of all - her skills as a thespian.

* * *

Arthuria charged forward, Excalibur held high. She didn’t feel entirely right using a weapon that didn’t belong to her assigned Class, but the Sword of Promised Victory would always be her greatest weapon.

Her doppleganger blocked the first of her many strikes, but within an instant it was obvious that Saber’s strength was fading. She couldn’t hope to dodge the full power of Excalibur’s might.

“Saber, I am sorry for attacking your Master,” she said solemnly while sidestepping a rain of arrows from Archer. “It was nothing personal; I was under orders.”

“Whether you wanted to or not,” Saber growled, “you still hurt Praetor. I cannot forgive you.”

She charged forward with impressive speed thanks to her theft of Lancer’s Prana Burst. Saber rained down multiple hammer-blows against Lancer’s shining blade, but they were all effortlessly parried by the King of Knights’ unsurpassable skill.

“I do not seek your forgiveness,” the Servant in blue calmly responded. “Right now, I only seek your defeat.”

The golden light of her sword became even brighter as it filled with a fantastic amount of magical power, begging to be released. Saber’s eyes widened in horror and the tensing of her shoulders made her fear obvious. She had to know this was the end.

“ ** _Excalibur_**!”

And for an instant, it was as if the sun itself had consumed the night.

* * *

Within the depths of Fuyuki Church, a pair of red eyes snapped open. The King of Heroes smiled hungrily as he sensed a very familiar power.

His queen had returned to him at long last. After a decade of complete boredom, the only new treasure the world produced had returned for him to claim. This time, nothing would stop Gilgamesh from obtaining his bride and adding her beauty to his infinite treasury. 

* * *

Archer watched from his rooftop perch in a mixture of awe and horror as Red-Saber was consumed by the beam of pure light emitted from Arthuria’s holy sword. Excalibur was just as beautiful as he remembered. The crystalized prayers of humanity given forged into a peerless sword and given to a hero worthy of its glory.

The Saber he knew just wouldn’t be the same without that sword. It was that sword that made her the unbeatable warrior a part of him would always be in awe of.

The destructive beam of light vanished, along with Red-Saber. Nothing could possibly survive that attack. The street itself had been torn to shreds and the streetlights were uselessly scattered about the rubble.

Even under the influence of Ilya’s bounded field, the authorities were bound to notice the sudden laser light show that just destroyed half a city block. Even if Arthuria was holding back for the sake of limiting collateral damage, this would be pretty hard to cover up. He didn’t envy that bastard priest trying to find an explanation for this one.

As Lancer exhaled slightly and lowered her sword, Archer saw his chance. He pulled tighter on his bowstring and finished charging the thin, obsidian colored “arrow” he had just Projected.

Hrunting, the sword used by Beowulf to slay Grendel’s Mother. A blade that was said to never stop until it drew blood from its target, making it the perfect weapon for Archer to modify into an arrow.

The perfect arrow for a perfect archer. The perfect archer is one who has learnt to suppress the self, and give over one's life entirely to attaining a goal. The self becomes the bow, and as long as one imagines hitting the target, the target can be hit and the goal achieved.

Even if Lancer dodged this attack, Archer would attain his goal.

* * *

Arthuria lowered her sword and allowed herself a moment to breath a sigh of relief. With her doppleganger defeated the only real threat was Archer, who had been mostly avoiding a direct conflict. After her recent display of power, it was likely he would avoid a direct confrontation and instead rely on something far more underhanded.

It was then, from the corner of her eye, that Lancer saw a red bullet of light screaming towards her Master.

The girl in blue bolted forward and up into the air to intercept the projectile. However, at the last second, the arrow somehow changed directions and came straight at her. Already airborne, Lancer had no way to dodge the attack, leaving her no choice but to to deflect the arrow with Excalibur.

She twisted around, slashing her shining sword into the arrow. But instead of shattering to pieces, it exploded in a small burst of red light.

She crashed onto the ground, her body covered in multiple cuts and gashes. While not overly debilitating, they were more than enough to prevent her from using her full strength. But that did not mean she would let Archer harm Ilya.

“Lancer,” Archer’s voice cried out. “You and your Master have achieved your goal here. You have no grudge against my Master or me, so why don’t you leave?”

Lancer tensed her grip on Excalibur, and pivoted back and forth, searching for the source of Archer’s voice. The evening fog had rolled in since the fight began, obscuring the bowman’s location within the thick winter mist.

“What?!” his Master shrieked, still holding the seemingly dead form of her ally. “We can’t let them get away with this crap!”

“Quiet! Rin,” his shout silenced the girl. “Even if I can fend Lancer off, what about you and the idiot? With Saber gone, I’m the only thing between you and death.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” a chillingly familiar voice echoed behind Lancer.

She whipped around to be confronted by the horrifying sight of Saber, alive and well, with her sword held against Ilya’s throat. The little homunculus started at her Servant, eyes wide with fear.

“I killed you,” Lancer growled, her grip so tight that her hands were going numb.

“Well,” Saber said with a smirk. “Any good thespian knows how to perform a convincing death scene.”

The shame Arthuria felt coursing through her being was more than she could bear. She had been careless and distracted, allowing for her Master to be captured. Saber could slit Ilya’s throat in less time than it would take to cross the distance and attack her infuriating counterpart.

“Submit,” Saber growled at Ilya and Lancer. “We have won.”

“How’d you even survive?” Ilya pouted, still struggling uselessly against the blonde’s grip. “Lancer can beat anyone.”

“Except for me, it seems,” Saber smiled mockingly.

Lancer inched forward, only to be stopped by Saber threateningly tightening her grip on Ilya.

“After what you did to Praetor,” Saber hissed in a low tone. “This is better than either of you deserve. A fitting end to wicked villains.”

Lancer was furious at her look-alike’s accusations, but couldn’t argue with the girl’s anger. If their situations had been reversed, she would have done everything in her power to avenge Ilya.

“If you harm one hair on Ilya’s head,” the King of Knights said dangerously, “I will use every power I possess to destroy you.”

“Well, lets just see how that goes,” the Servant in red grinned.

The near-identical Servants each prepared to strike; Saber to kill, Lancer to avenge.

But before Saber could kill Ilya, a weak voice broke her focus.

“Saber... don’t,” Shirou called out weakly.

Both Servants whipped their heads around to see a semi-conscious Shirou supported by Rin, who seemed even more flabbergasted than they were.

“Let my sister go,” the teen panted pleadingly.

Saber, eyes wide, silently nodded and released Ilya. In an instant, both Servants were beside their Masters, Saber supporting the boy and Lancer checking Ilya for wounds.

“I’m sorry I failed you, Master,” Lancer whispered, hanging her head in shame.

* * *

Rin was amazed that Shirou was alive, let alone that Saber had somehow survived that attack. But why did that idiot want to let that little brat go?

The girl turned to them, her eyes full of angry tears.

“Let’s go, Lancer,” she growled, looking to all the world like a little girl nearing a temper tantrum. “We can kill these guys some other time.”

Lancer nodded somewhat reluctantly and picked up the little girl. Without any other acknowledgement, the Servant in blue dashed off, vanishing into the darkness.

Once it was obvious that they were alone and the coast was clear, Archer reappeared at Rin’s side. Shirou, who was barely able to even support himself, collapsed to the cold pavement for the second time that night.

* * *

Saber helped Rin carry her Master home and clean his wounds. It seemed that whatever force had kept him alive only closed the life-threatening stab wound, but not fully heal it. He would be out of commission for at least a day.

Secretly, she was glad that Lancer and her Master left when they did. Using Aetus Estus and cheating certain death had consumed an inordinate amount of her mana. She never would have been able to fight off her seeming clone in her current condition, so she had to resort to that nasty bluff about hurting the girl. Of course, for an actor of her legendary skill and prowess, it was an easy task.

The instant Rin left her alone in Shirou’s room to guard her Master, the tiny blonde Servant collapsed, welcoming a much needed rest.

* * *


	9. Brothers and Eyes

* * *

_Shirou dreamt of a lonely girl who lived in a large palace within a vast and growing empire._

_Her father was a weak and aging man, while her mother was manipulative and power-hungry. The girl’s mother, driven by her lust for power, had plans for the young girl. She needed a son for her future, so a son she would have, whether the girl wanted it or not._

_The mother would eventually marry the elderly emperor after the mysterious death of her husband. Soon, the new Empress made sure that her young “son” would be made heir._

_As she grew, the girl who was now heir to the greatest empire in the world was told by all how special and wonderful “he” was. The girl believed all of it and soon came to view herself as the foremost expert at... everything. When it came to strength, she rivaled Hercules; when it came to chariots, she could out-race Apollo; and when it came to battle, Mars would meet his match._

_But what the girl truly loved was art. Theater, music, frescos, pottery, painting, poetry - all things that involved creativity and freedom; things her mother had denied from her for so long. Even though the Empress and her supporting nobles discouraged these actions, it only made the girl try harder. The heir would not quit until the whole world knew what a magnificent artist she was._

_And so the girl decided that a demonstration of her skill was in order. She would forge a sword so magnificent, Vulcan himself would applaud her skill, while the Emperor and her mother would weep at its beauty._

_Sadly, it did not go as planned._

* * *

Shirou awoke with a gasp, a sudden throbbing pain pulling him from his peaceful slumber.

He put his hand to his aching chest and was shocked to discover he was covered in bandages. And in a flash, it all came back to him; the ambush, being impaled and somehow not dying, his sister...

The teen’s groggy thoughts came to an abrupt halt as he remembered the words of Tohsaka and the priest moderating the Grail War. Though he had been skeptical of the kill or be killed mentality behind this conflict, nearly being murdered by a girl who couldn’t have been older than twelve proved him wrong.

Could he do it though? Could he fight, and if need be, kill his little sister?

When he spoke to Kotomine, the priest cryptically said that wishing to be a savior may as well have been wishing for people to be in danger. The look in the man’s empty eyes spoke of a long lasting misery and darkness. They were so similar to the eyes his father had. Did fighting in the previous Grail War do that to them?

If Shirou really wanted to be a hero and stop this foolish conflict between mages, he may wind up with eyes like theirs.

* * *

Lancer knocked lightly on her Master’s bedroom door. Since their escape from Saber and Archer last night, the girl hadn’t said a thing.

Arthuria knew she was being punished for failing to protect Ilya from Saber’s trap. Not that she could blame the girl. Unleashing Excalibur of all things in a populated area? Lancer regretted it almost as soon as it was done, but that Saber’s mere existence seemed to anger and insult her. Then, to top everything off, her mighty blade hadn’t even been enough to defeat her lookalike.

It was no wonder that Ilya was too angry to talk to her. But, like any good knight, Lancer would find a way to return to her Master’s good graces.

After waiting for what felt like hours, the blonde knight slowly opened the door to Ilya’s room.

Her Master was sitting in a large armchair by the fire, a distant look in her eye.

“Sella and Lystrit think you should eat something,” the Servant said hesitantly. It wasn’t exactly true, seeing as the homunculi maids who maintained the castle were too worried about retribution to say anything against the girl they called their master, but Lancer knew there were worried all the same.

The white haired girl said nothing in response. She simply narrowed her eyes and turned away from the blonde Servant.

Lancer suppressed a sigh. She was fine with being punished for her failings the previous night, but she would _not_ be ignored by two Masters in a row.

“Perhaps we should discuss battle plans for the other Servants,” she continued.

Still no response from the tiny girl.

“Please, Master,” Arthuria pressed on, “just tell me what is wrong so that I may fix it.” She put her hand firmly on the girl’s slim shoulder, hoping to get a response from her Master. With a forceful tug, she turned the girl towards her.

Staring back at her were a pair of red eyes full of confusion, doubt, and perhaps even fear. They were eyes Arthuria knew well, as they were so similar to her own eyes during her brief moments of solitude during her tenure as King of the Britons.

Now it all made sense. Ilya was not angry at her Servant - she was plagued by doubts. Doubts likely caused by the words of her adopted brother. Dedicating one’s whole existence to revenge against someone who turned out to be undeserving of it was likely quite the shock for the little homunculus.

After an agonizingly long moment, Lancer decided that she needed to say something to brighten Ilya’s mood. She knew herself to be ill-suited to care for children, but her words had once rallied a nation behind her, surely she could at least try her hand at cheering up a confused and lonely girl.

“Did you know I had a step-brother as well?” she asked the little homunculus after gathering her thoughts.

“Yes,” Ilya responded quietly, slowly. “Sir Kay, one of the first Knights of the Round Table. Grandpa made sure I knew as much of your legend as possible.”

Lancer nodded, glad that Ilya was finally saying _something_.

“Kay was a good man,” the Servant continued. “Even after he learned I was adopted by Sir Ector, he treated me like blood. We bickered and fought, often sparred with each other, but we loved each other nonetheless.”

Ilya didn’t respond. Clearly, this story was getting a little close to home for the girl - which was exactly what the Servant wanted.

“Even though I was always a better swordsman than him, Kay always felt the need to try protecting me,” she continued.

It was true. Even after abandoning her gender to become the king the people needed, Kay still felt the need to protect his little sister. It was why he became Camelot’s chief court guard and made sure that only the worthiest of knights could ever even get near the king.

“Well _I_ don’t need protecting,” Ilya responded petulantly.

“Neither did I,” Lancer said with an almost wry grin.

Ilya looked unsure now. Perhaps it was best if she try easing the girl into things. Her step-brother was in all likelihood not as evil as Ilya thought him to be. The fact that he survived an attack from Rhongowennan was proof enough.

“But you see,” the blonde said with a nostalgic smile, “that’s the wonderful thing about big brothers. They don’t think they’re doing their job if they’re not protecting their little sisters.”

Ilya nodded slightly, still lost in her own thoughts. “Thanks, Lancer,” she mumbled.

* * *

Saber frowned as she contemplated the incredibly difficult task she currently found herself confronted with.

Though her Master was still unconscious, the stirring in his sleep indicated he’d be awake soon. And likely quite hungry.

Unfortunately, Archer’s Master had somehow managed to drive away that strange Tiger-like woman when she came to check on her ward’s health. And the purple haired maiden was nowhere to be seen after a brief and awkward exchange at the front of the house. Rin’s departure after breakfast to investigate the dangerous bounded field at their school had left the Servant as the only occupant of her Master’s large home.

Which ultimately meant that Saber would have to be the one to prepare food for her injured Master.

While the Servant knew herself to be the greatest artist in the history of the world, she would be arrogant to call herself the greatest of chefs. Truthfully, in her time, Saber had her every whim catered to when it came to most domestic activities. After all, it was unfitting for someone of her status to do servant work. But considering that’s what she now was (in a way at least) it couldn’t hurt to at least try.

Perhaps that cooked rice dish Shirou had given her on the first night would be sufficient. It seemed a simple enough principle...

* * *

The still groggy Shirou was pulled from his gloomy thoughts by the sound of his smoke detector going off.

The teen sprinted into the kitchen to see his Servant frantically trying to put out a fire that had somehow engulfed his stove top. Saber turned to him, the sink’s small hose attachment trying and failing to extinguish the blaze.

“Good morning, Praetor,” the tiny blonde said with a friendly smile. “I believe your breakfast should be ready soon.”

“M-my kitchen...” Shirou wailed in a combination of horror mixed with an encroaching feeling of absolute despair.

Acting fast, Shirou sprinted around his Servant to open a cabinet door and remove the small fire extinguisher he kept there for emergencies and let loose a deluge of white foam. The fire was out, but whatever Saber had been attempting to cook in his sanctuary of cooking was destroyed.

With a sigh, the redhead turned to his Servant. “Thanks for trying Saber, but next time, do what Taiga does when I’m too sick to cook; use the microwave.”

There was the briefest flash of embarrassment across her features before the Servant nodded, her vivid green eyes not meeting his. “I was trying to do you a kindness,” she grumbled quietly.

“I know,” the magus responded as nicely as he could. “That’s why I’m not angry. Just hungry,” he added with a chuckle.

“Good,” Saber said with renewed energy. “Tell me, Praetor, how healed are your injuries?”

Shirou flexed his arms, rolled his shoulders and gingerly poked at his ribs. Aside from a few sharp jolts of pain in his chest he felt well enough to move for what he hoped was an extended period of time, so long as he didn’t exert himself.

“Well, I can move at least,” Shirou said with something of an embarrassed chuckle.

It seemed that every time there was a fight, he was the designated punching bag. How the hell was he supposed to become a Hero of Justice if he had to rely on others to do the fighting for him? Sure he was pretty strong for his age, he’d trained himself for years with physically taxing odd-jobs to build up his muscles. He was also pretty good at archery, having once been the ace of his high school’s team before leaving due to a shoulder injury.

But what good had any of that done him? His father had spent his dying words warning Shirou about the Grail War happening, and he was still the most useless person in the conflict. He was a third-rate magus at best. His father’s illness prevented him from ever giving Shirou proper training in magecraft. All he could do with any reliability was use Reinforcement magic to strengthen and repair various objects.

“That’s good to hear,” the blonde grinned. “Truly, your healing magic is impressive. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Well, you see, that’s the thing, neither have I...” Shirou trailed off awkwardly. How the hell _had_ he healed himself anyway? Last time a Servant skewered him, Rin had healed him before he bled out using her most powerful magic gem. Clearly, that wasn’t an option this time.

Sensing her Master’s confusion, Saber cocked an eyebrow. “Oh?” she asked, her voice growing more stern. “Does that mean you don’t normally recover from deadly wounds that are cause by flinging yourself into danger?”

“No,” the teen answered weakly.

“Then pray tell, _why_ did you get so close to the Einzbern Master?”

“Because I thought she was a normal little girl who was in danger,” Shirou answered in a defiant tone. “I can’t just stand by and let someone innocent get dragged into this crazy war. What kind of person would I be if I just stood aside when I know I can do _something_?

Strangely, Saber smiled softly when he said this. “You’d be a far too ordinary man to be my Master. You truly have the heart of a hero.”

Shirou blushed slightly. It wasn’t everyday a legendary hero gave you a compliment.

“However, that does not mean you have the skills of a hero,” Saber continued, dragging Shirou’s uplifted spirits back down to earth. “You are a weak and easy target as long as you wish to put yourself at such risk. I suggest we fix that.”

The tiny blonde grinned broadly, her large crimson sword appearing in her hand. “Tell me, Praetor, what do you know of swordsmanship?”

Shirou was taken aback. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” he asked hesitantly.

“Of course,” Saber said with a theatrical gesture of her arm. “The world will always be in need of heroes, and not everyone is as naturally gifted as I. It is only fair that I use my many skills to instruct you as how to best defend yourself. What do you say?”

Shirou stood there in stunned silence for a moment. He’d been contemplating asking for Saber to train him since the previous night, but he hadn’t quite worked out how to bridge the potentially awkward topic. After all, Rin had said that Masters were supposed to let their Servants do the fighting for them, but if that was the case, then why were Rin and that Bazett woman so good at fighting? There was no way Shirou would let himself remain useless.

“I accept,” he answered with a smile and a respectful bow towards the girl who was about to become his sensei.

“Good,” she said with her head held high. “The training shall begin as soon as we finish breakfast.”

_‘Oh right... that,’_ Shirou thought with a despairing glance towards his partially destroyed kitchen. “I’ll figure something out,” he said with an awkward grin.

* * *

Archer followed Rin down the high school hallway, invisible to all but her.

For once, the Counter Guardian was at something of a loss as to what to do. While the memories of his old life had indeed been scattered and hazy when Rin first summoned him, most of them were back, and razor sharp. While at first, his knowledge of the coming events gave him a great feeling of advantage, these drastic changes of the Servant roster potentially invalidated all his knowledge of coming events.

_“Archer,”_ Rin’s voice rang out in his head through their link. _“We still don’t know which enemy Master is responsible for the Bounded Field, so be on guard for anything suspicious.”_

The bowman could only shake his head in resignation when his Master wasn’t looking. She knew that the Matou family was one of the founders of the Grail War, so it really shouldn’t be too hard for an alleged genius like Rin to figure out which classmates of hers were the likely culprits.

Of course, the obviousness of it all was likely too much for the girl to bear knowing. The idea that not only was her estranged sister her opponent, but was also willing to kill hundreds of children to make her Servant stronger? Definitely not something a normal person would want weighing on their mind.

While it wasn’t healthy for Rin to be so obviously lying to herself, Archer had never been a paragon of mental health either, so he had no right to lecture her. Of course, he also knew for a fact that Sakura Matou was not responsible for this mess... at least she wasn’t in _his_ timeline. For all he knew, this new Grail War with its swapped classes and bizarre Saber-doppleganger could have made Sakura into Rider’s Master this time around.

In fact, as if the universe had sensed his thoughts, the actual culprit emerged from the stairwell as Rin approached.

“Morning Tohsaka,” Shinji Matou said with a look that was more of a leer than a genuine smile.

Rin just kept her eyes forward and walked past the blue-haired teen. He stopped and turned around, looking quite livid for her ignoring him. However, after a second, his rage abated and Shinji continued on to his morning class.

“If we don’t know who we’re dealing with, we should try drawing them out,” Archer said, still invisibly trailing his Master. “Perhaps destroying some more of their precious sigils during your lunch break will get their attention.”

_“As much as I’d like to do that, I’d feel better if Emiya was here,”_ Rin thought at her Servant, unaware that, in a way, he was. _“He’s quite good at sensing them, despite his mediocrity as a magus.”_

“I still say we’re better off without that idiot,” Archer grumbled. Truthfully, he simply hated working with the boy he had once been. He only served as a reminder of all the mistakes Archer had made in his life. All for pursuing the foolish dream of being a hero.

_“If I agreed with you, would I have wasted all that effort covering for him this morning?”_ she shot back.

Archer went silent, not wanting to argue with her at the moment. It was true that Rin had somehow managed to convince both Sakura and Taiga that Shirou had become severely ill last night and should not be seen until after school. While he suspected that more than a little hypnosis had been used on the loud-mouthed teacher, Archer wasn’t quite sure what Rin had done to convince Sakura. The entire conversation with the purple haired girl was a haze to the tanned Servant. He had been too busy watching Sakura to listen to what the brunette was saying.

In his past life, Archer had always thought Sakura Matou to be a sweet and kind girl with a tough home life due to her brother’s abusive treatment of her. He always thought that was the reason why her eyes were in a near-permanent state of dull sadness. When he was growing up, he had always assumed that they were like his father’s - the eyes of someone who had experienced great pain, but kept marching forward to no matter what.

Of course, it wasn’t until later on that Archer learned just how wrong he was.

When a spirit is summoned to act as a Counter Guardian to defend humanity’s existence in any and all possible realities and dimensions from a dangerous threat, one rarely can remember the whole experience. It is generally a long blur of bloodshed and screams of agony. But Archer would always remember his first summoning, for it was in his own version of earth, shortly after he had finally been killed.

The world was engulfed by a terrible, all-consuming shadow. There was destruction as far as the eye could see, but very little blood spilled upon the ground, for the mysterious threat simply absorbed and consumed anything it wanted to kill, rather than leave behind a mess. After fighting his way towards the epicenter of the thing’s power, his body acting as a glorified puppet for the will of humanity, the Counter Guardian EMIYA finally learned what had become of his childhood friend.

Sakura Matou was a _monster_. There was no other way to describe it. Her eyes were just as empty  and lifeless as the fake priest’s. But while Kotomine may have thrived from the suffering of others, he had never come this close to destroying everything. But the white haired woman shrouded in darkness was more than capable of destroying _everything_ if she so felt it. And so EMIYA did what the magic force controlling him put him there to do. He slaughtered the girl who had cared for him more for than almost anyone else.

And that was the day the hero without a legend learned how truly hopeless his dream had been.

Though the Sakura of this world was nowhere near that state now, Archer knew it could only be a matter of time before she became a threat to Rin, Ilya, and everyone else. If it came to it, he knew he would kill Sakura again.

Only a fool would think he could save everyone.

* * *

Shirou collapsed to the ground, battered and bruised, but he couldn’t be happier.

Saber was a truly brutal instructor, but he went in there assuming that would be the case. She came at him with speed and strength greater than any human could ever have. The only thing that had managed to protect him in the least was wooden practice sword he’d strengthened with his Reinforcement magic.

While he normally had to focus incredibly hard just to get his magic circuits to activate so he could perform the most basic magecraft, this time he found himself Reinforcing the bokken with relative ease. Perhaps it was that the adrenaline rush of fighting helped him focus?

Well it didn’t really matter how he did it, but he did it. Shirou had successfully blocked an attack from a warrior who was strong enough use light poles as an impromptu weapon. Of course the fact that Saber shattered his sword to pieces on the third strike did dampen his mood a bit, but still, progress was progress.

“You are a surprisingly apt swordsman, Praetor,” Saber said, hoisting the teen to his feet. “With any luck you may someday be able to fight someone reasonably good.”

“Thanks,” the redhead said flatly.

“Oh no need to thank me,” the blonde said happily, either ignoring his sarcasm or simply not getting it. “Now we just need to make sure you always have access to a sword and you should be able to defend yourself until I come swooping in to rescue you.”

Shirou rolled his eyes as he picked up a new sword and took a battle stance. Pulling a sword on his attackers would be nice, but he couldn’t just pull a weapon out of thin air. That would be insane.

* * *

“Are you insane?!” Bazett Fraga McRemitz shouted at her Servant in frustration.

Berserker just growled in frustration, as he usually did when his answers would be longer than a few brief words. Frankly, it was a miracle that her Servant had any speech capabilities at all, considering that previous Berserkers had been silent rage-monsters 24/7 rather than just in the heat of battle.

But it was still disappointing for the young irishwoman to meet her childhood hero, Cú Chulainn in such bad circumstances. She’d been hoping to meet and get to know her hero before saving him from his tragic legend and giving him another shot at life. Instead, she found herself partnered with a half-crazed warrior who was more like a mad dog than a noble Hound of Ulster.

“Why can’t I?” Berserker finally managed to ask, his voice hoarse and raspy, rather than the smooth baritone she’d always pictured when she was a teenager.

“I’m not letting you out of the hotel before nightfall,” Bazett said sternly, hands on her hips. “We can go looking for a fight then.”

“Gotta find Lancer,” the Irish hero said eagerly, his hands beginning to twitch in a desperation to act.

Last time he’d started doing that, Berserker punched his way through six of the hotel’s bedrooms. There was no way Bazett was letting that happen again. Better to just try keeping the blue-haired warrior busy for a bit longer until nightfall.

“Why do you want to fight Lancer?” she asked, despite already knowing the likely answer.

The previous night, she and Berserker had been on patrol of the town, looking for an opponent to fight and satisfy her Servant’s constant battle lust. While they weren’t lucky enough to find anyone, they did bear witness to a truly amazing beam of golden light that briefly filled the night sky. The fact that nobody immediately rushed to investigate told Bazett that there was likely a Bounded Field in the area to prevent the intervention of the non-magical community.

They arrived to find a shredded street and several broken and shattered lights, as well as more than a few trees that had been reduced to splinters. A Servant and Master were far ahead of them, fleeing the scene, but neither Bazett nor Berserker were able to catch the identify the Servant, only catching a quick glance of a silvery spear that gleamed in the moonlight. Though the Servant got away, it wasn’t particularly hard to guess the warrior’s class for the War.

Ever since then, Berserker had been looking forward to a fight with another one of the knightly Servant classes. Though it probably had a lot to do with Cú Chulainn being well suited to the Lancer class himself.

Bazett herself probably would have preferred it if she had summoned him as Lancer. He’d probably be much more charming that way...

Forcing herself to focus more on the present and less on her childhood crush on a mythological character, Bazett silenced her Servant’s growling.

“Well if you want to fight Lancer, I’ll find you Lancer,” she said sternly. “But until then, you’ll remain in your spiritual form and Don’t. Smash. Anything.”

Berserker flashed a positively predatory smile before disappearing in a silvery-blue mist.

This was certainly going to be an eventful night for them indeed.

* * *

Sunset at the high school was always a lovely sight to behold as the world became a beautiful shade of orange. Some particularly eager young couples staying after school were occasionally known to sneak up to the roof and watch the sunset; the girls coming for the romantic view and atmosphere and the guys coming for the girls.

The current occupants on the roof in the fading sunlight may have been a male and female, but the Servant Rider would kill anyone foolish enough to even suggest that she was a willing associate to the sick and pathetic worm known as Shinji Matou.

The tall and imposing pink-haired woman rose from her kneeling position as she reapplied the magic circle to activate her Bloodfort Bounded Field. In just another day or two it would be solid enough to activate and absorb the life energy of the school, giving Rider more than enough power to compensate for the pitiful amount of mana she was receiving from her current Master.

If she was still fully contracted to Sakura, Rider would have enough energy to fight at her full strength and be close enough to the girl to keep a better eye on her.

Ever since being summoned, Rider had felt the quiet girl to be a kindred spirit, a broken being at risk of falling into the darkness within her heart. The more she saw the disturbing horrors at the Matou house, the more Rider knew it to be true. In her past life, Rider had suffered the cruelties of the gods and felt scorn from the sisters that she loved before finally becoming a very literal monster. Sakura’s torment may not have been caused by a needlessly spiteful divine being, but Zouken’s horrid worms may have been even worse.

But as long as Shinji had the book in his hand that gave him control over her, Rider would never be able to give Sakura the protection she needed.

“Hurry up!” Shinji hissed from his position behind her. “This should’ve been done hours ago. We need to get home before nightfall.”

“Afraid to fight, _Master_?” Rider asked in a disrespectful tone. “I thought you were so eager to prove yourself in this War.”

“Be quiet!” the teen shrieked. “I’m no coward. I’m just making sure my pathetic excuse of a Servant has enough power to actually win.”

“And you’re doing it by killing a bunch of innocent children who can’t fight back. Courageous indeed,” a man’s voice echoed from behind them, followed by the distinctive sound of metal chopping through bone.

Shinji fell to the ground, howling in pain and clutching at the bloody stump where his wrist had once been. His severed hand lay on the concrete floor of the school roof in a pool of fresh blood.

Behind the screaming teen was a slim man in a purple samurai-like garb. He wiped the blood from his long sword with a detached look.

Rider charged at him, likely Servant Assassin, striking at him with the large, dagger-like chains that served as her melee weapons. He dodged and parried all her attacks, but they had served their purpose - getting her between Assassin and her idiot Master.

Assassin raised an eyebrow in confusion as he took a battle stance. “How odd,” he said musingly. “My Master assured me that cutting off the Master’s hand like that would sever a Master and Servant’s contract.”

“Our contract doesn’t work that way,” Rider said calmly as she sized up her enemy. “Assassin I presume?”

The samurai smiled and bowed slightly. “I am Sasaki Kojiro and my Master has ordered me to stop your Bounded Field.”

Rider tensed as she readjusted her grip on her weapons. While she’d love to simply let Shinji bleed out and die, Sakura seemed to honestly feel sorry for her pathetic excuse of an older brother. She’d have to either defeat Assassin in mere moments, or flee with her injured Master to get him treated.

With grim acceptance, Rider lowered her stance and leapt forward to strike at her new opponent.

* * *


	10. Evil in the Dark

* * *

With another graceful swing of his sword, Assassin deflected yet another strike from Rider’s strange nail-like weapons. While he was enjoying himself, it was obvious the tall, lovely woman was simply toying with him until she could get her injured Master to safety.

Rider’s teenaged Master was currently on the hard concrete surface of the school roof, clutching his severed stump of an arm and screaming in pain. It really was a shame that he couldn’t steal Rider’s Command Seals as he had hoped. Caster and her mysterious Master were apparently hoping to expand their team by stealing another Servant to act as their scout in Assassin’s place.

While the samurai wanted to be insulted by their blatant disregard for his pride, Assassin knew their was a certain logic to their wishes. He was not a true Heroic Spirit, nor was he the true Sasaki Kojiro. This was because there **wasn’t** a true Sasaki Kojiro. Assassin was merely the spirit of a swordsman forgotten by history whose skills were the closest the Grail could find to the mythical hero.

Because of this, the swordsman had no need for pride. Whatever he accomplished here would be attributed to another man - one who had never even existed. He couldn’t even win the Grail, as that would prevent his Master from claiming it, seeing as they were both Servants. So with the little time he likely had and the little mana he had powering him, Assassin found himself concerned with one thing - a good battle.

Of course, Rider was unlikely to give him the proper duel he wanted. She was concerned with getting her Master to safety. Maybe he should let her go, before he tired himself out battling her. Assassin only had a certain amount of energy he could use in a day before he’d have to return to the temple to get more mana from Caster. If he ran out of mana when he was away from the mountain, he’d assuredly die.

Rider appeared above him, her dagger speeding at him like a bullet. Assassin sidestepped the nail-like blade as it impaled and cracked the rooftop. If that was what she could do when she was only playing around, perhaps it would be best if he let her go.

Of course, if he did that, he may never get another chance to have such a wonderful duel.

* * *

With a grunt, Rider launched herself at the Samurai. She needed to forcing back to the other end of the roof to make sure she had enough room to escape with Shinji before the fool bleed out. It was still too bright to summon her mount, mere minutes after sunset. She wasn’t even sure if it was technically late enough for a proper Grail War battle to begin. But the Assassin Class was well known for treating the rules as simply suggestions.

Like striking snakes, her chained blades lashed out with enough force to drill through the cement of the school roof wherever they struck. She had yet to land a blow on the frustratingly graceful warrior despite being one of the fastest Servants in the Grail War. Every one of her strikes, no matter the speed or angle of trajectory, had been deflected or dodged.

But it was obvious from his aura and the force of his blows that he had almost no strength to speak of. She’d likely just need a single blow from one of her nails to remove him from the War for good.

The first of Rider’s chains struck out towards Assassin’s left. The samurai spun away from the blow, causing the nail to imbed itself in the metal door leading onto the roof. The next chain was deflected to the right, drilling the nail into the roof’s surface.

Assassin smiled. “You’re quite good, you know. Its a shame that fool is your master, he’s obviously holding you back.”

“That may be,” Rider acknowledged. “But unfortunately, I can’t let him die.”

With a sudden burst of motion, she yanked her left arm back, tapping into the Monstrous Strength she possessed in life, and ripped the metal door from its hinges, sending it spinning at Assassin like a discus.

The purple-clad swordsman saw it coming and dove to the right ducking under the flying door. Rider smiled as she spring her trap and flicked the right chain upwards, sending chunks of concrete flying everywhere. Assassin’s foot tripped over the airborne chain and sent the Servant off balance.

Rider knew he’d recover in a moment, but a moment was all she needed. She rushed forward and delivered a spinning kick to his slim wiry chest, knocking the wind out of him and propelling him from the roof and across the school grounds into a high chain-link fence.

Without sparing him another glance Rider dashed to her fallen Master and scooped the bloody teen up into her arms. Shinji had lost consciousness sometime during the fight and his skin was as white as a ghost, but she suspected he could make it if she hurried him make to that _thing_ he called a grandfather.

While Rider hated the slimeball acting as her Master, she knew Sakura loved her brother for reasons she’d never understand. She did this for her. Everything was for Sakura.

* * *

Kirei Kotomine slowly walked through the lowest level’s of the Fuyuki Church’s crypt. The dank smell of dust and decay wafted through his nostrils, making the middle-aged priest unconsciously crinkle his nose as he neared his destination.

The large double-doors opened, causing the stench of death and decay to rise exponentially. Though the things within the room weren’t actually dead, you couldn’t really say they were alive either. The few who still had eyes may have shifted them towards the door as it opened, but it was not because they could see. Their sight, along with nearly all other senses, had long since been robbed from them thanks to the priest who was looking down at them with a calm, clinical gaze.

Within the darkened room were about three dozen coffins containing the orphaned children of the Great Fuyuki Fire.

The children, if they could still be called that, looked more like mummies. Their skin was leathery and dried out, with several of them missing arms or legs. A few of them still made nearly audible noises as he walked into the small crypt. Of course, their voice boxes and general ability to articulate things had failed long ago. Ten years ago, the sounds of screaming near constantly echoed throughout the lower portions of the church.

The stronger of the children used to look at Kotomine when he visited them, begging for him to let them die. Some of them would even try asking why he was doing this to them.

The priest never answered that question because really, how could he? _‘I’m slowly draining your life-force in a magic ritual to give the legendary hero Gilgamesh access to his vault of weapons,’_ sounded absurd when he said it out loud, even if it was the truth, but the answer of _‘Because I’m an evil sadist,’_ managed to simultaneously be too obvious and an oversimplification.

Really though, Kirei knew that he mainly did it because it gave him pleasure.

It was a fact he had struggled with for many years. He had been on the path to the priesthood - the path of righteousness since he was a boy. Despite what others would think if they knew of the atrocities he’d committed, Kirei did actually have a conscience.

How could he not, considering how he’d been raised?

But therein lied his problem; by obeying his conscience  he could never be happy. But if his conscience was counterintuitive to his inherently evil nature, why did he exist? He had always been taught the virtues of selflessness, and in a way, he truly was selfless. Kotomine was a man without any real desires of his own. He lived solely through his relations with others, but only by causing pain. A just God would never allow someone so fundamentally evil to be born, yet here Kirei was, alive for forty years and embracing his twisted nature for a decade.

One of the children staring at him with its dead, unseeing eyes began to gasp and convulse in its coffin, about to experience the sweet relief of death. Kotomine pressed a gently glowing hand to the child’s rotting chest, accessing the only magecraft he was at all skilled with - healing. The gasps subsided and the convulsing corpse child stilled and resumed its breathing. Kotomine couldn’t allow them to die yet; a few more weeks of mana was all he needed until the Holy Grail was summoned and the War was over.

Yet despite the Holy Grail teaching what brought him joy, the priest still had no real answers to the bigger questions. Yes, he had read the writings of many great theologians and philosophers; St. Augustine, St. Ignatius, Francis Xavier, Kant, Milton, and Sartre, but he still felt alone. Why did a creature as twisted as him exist and what was his purpose?

There was a darkness in the Grail. He had witnessed it first hand in the last war when it mended his ruined heart and brought him back to life. Perhaps the evil force corrupting the Grail knew what to make of a broken man like Kirei Kotomine.

Perhaps Kotomine had found someone like himself at long last.

* * *

Shinji felt himself start to lose consciousness again as the worms burrowed into his skin. The burning pain as the vile little creatures bonded his severed bones and ligaments together was indescribable. Even as he regained partial feeling in his cold and gray fingers, he could still feel the worms remain where they were, wrapped around the mending Radius and Ulna bones of his forearm.

He tentatively flexed his fingers. Though they could all move, the teen could tell they were much weaker and slower than they should have been. “I’m supposed to be stronger than this,” he grumbled. “How long will it take to heal all the way?”

“You’ll never have full function of the hand again,” his grandfather said in a slimy, mocking tone.

“But I need them for archery!” Shinji shouted, hating the desperate quaver he felt in it. “It’s the only thing I’m good at.”

“You should be grateful I let you keep the hand at all,” the ancient man growled, “considering how easily you were defeated.”

“I survived an attack from Assassin,” the boy protested. “Once I get Rider some more mana, we’ll be the strongest Master-Servant pair in the whole Grail War!”

Strangely, Zouken burst out laughing at this. It was a horrifying laugh that could almost be described as musty, almost like the air being released from a crypt. After a moment, he calmed down and leveled a withering glare at his descendant.

“Fool. I didn't, nor do I ever, expect victory from a failure like you,” the ancient magus spat. “What I expected was enough foolish pride to challenge others in spite of your powerlessness. But you failed miserably, failing to face a single Servant before being beaten like the child you are. You disgraced the name of the Makiri. You and your father are both disgraces to our family.”

“I am _nothing_ like my father,” Shinji winced, fighting back the pain in his injured limb as the worms writhed in agitation under his flesh.

“Really?” Zouken asked with a raised brow. “You’re both pathetic, powerless whiners who blame your shortcomings on everyone but yourself.”

As he finished, the old man had a coughing fit, sending one of his disturbing black eyes popping out of its socket to land on the floor with a wet thud. A worm emerged from the old man’s eye socket and coiled up into a ball, slowly reforming the lost eye. Shinji jerked back in instinctive horror, but a boney hand grabbed his shoulder.

“The only way you’ll ever be any different from Byakuya is that when you next fail me, I’ll come for _you_ when I need a new body to host my soul. At least that way you could prove yourself useful!”

Shaking like a leaf, Shinji jerked away from the wizened old man and stumbled back, falling on the damp stone floor of the crypt. The slimy, squirming form of a worm crawled over his hand.

With a terrified squeak, Shinji sprang to his feet and rushed from the crypt. The last thing he heard as the door closed behind him was his ancestor’s sickening cackle.

* * *

Shirou sighed as he entered the bathroom. After a long day of sparring with Saber in the dojo, he wasn’t sure which he was more covered in - sweat or bruises.

Sakura and Fuji-nee would be arriving for dinner soon and it wouldn’t do to be covered in sweat and bruises from fighting when he was supposed to be sick in bed all day. After that, Rin was supposed to arrive to discuss plans for the War and go on patrol if there was time. So if Shirou wanted to get a bath in, now was pretty much his only chance.

The bathroom of the Emiya house was fairly large, mixing old-fashioned architecture with more modern appliances. Really, the whole estate was rather like that, considering the odd patchwork renovations that his father had paid for during the early years after adopting Shirou. The old samurai mansion had multiple pathways leading across the household in an odd crisscross of hallways, rather like a hotel.

Of course, the bathroom was extra strange considering it had two entrances, one leading form the living room and one from his bedroom. If Shirou had remembered that, he may have been prepared for the foggy glass door leading to the bath tub sliding open to reveal a _very_ naked Saber.

“Ah there you are, Praetor,” she said with an easy going smile as she lowered herself into the tub. “We have business to discuss.”

It took a moment for the teen’s brain t reboot, but as soon as it did, he shot his head up towards the ceiling so fast he may have gotten whiplash. _‘Goodness, those ceiling tiles were fascinating,’_ some part of Shirou’s mind thought. _‘I wonder how many there are?’_

“Saber, what are you doing in here?” he managed to ask in a surprisingly calm tone.

“As I said, I’m here to discuss business with you,” Saber said in mildly exasperated tone.

“B-b-but, I’m bathing,” the redhead sputter weakly while counting the ceiling tiles for the third time. Maybe there’d be more than sixteen this time. “Is now really the best time?”

The blonde Servant seemed genuinely confused for a moment. “Communal bathing was quite popular in my lifetime. I thought your culture enjoyed communal bathing as well. How else do you people get any business deals negotiated?”

For the first moment since this incredibly awkward bath began, Shirou lowered his eyes from the ceiling to look at the girl in front of him. “We usually wear clothing,” he said in an even tone. Frankly, if he wasn’t in such an awkward position at the moment, he may have laughed at her statement. it wouldn’t have been polite, and he would feel guilty about it, but some of the things Saber seemed to think were perfectly natural were so ridiculous it often made him wonder where in the world she had come from.

“I suppose,” the girl sighed dismissively. “But that still doesn’t explain why you’re looking at anything _but_ me. It’s rather rude.”

Even though his gaze was focused on the tiled wall over her shoulder, Shirou could practically feel Saber’s bright green eyes boring into him with a grown indignant rage. How the hell was she getting angry at him for trying to be a gentleman and not stare?

“Sentōs and onsens are gender segregated,” the teen quickly answered, hoping he wasn’t offending her further. Saber had been a great partner so far and he didn’t want he mad at him, even if he wasn’t quite sure what he’d done to offend her.

“Really?” she responded incredulously. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“I don’t think bathing is supposed to be all that fun,” the redhead answered even more awkwardly as he began blindly grabbing for his towel outside of the tub. He eventually felt the soft, bristly fabric and quickly wrapped it around himself, not caring that h was soaking the thing in an attempt to preserve some modesty.

“I think I’ve bathed enough for the night,” the teen stammered as he rose from the water, feeling his face go hotter than a thousand suns. He saw way more of Saber than he’d meant to when he was getting up. “I’ll, uh, leave you to wash up in peace. See you at dinner!”

Before the curvy Servant could respond to the flustered teen, he dashed out of the room and closed the door behind him.

* * *

Ilya huffed as she felt Lancer tense behind her for what was likely the thousandth time.

After spending all morning sulking in her room, Ilya decided she need to get some fresh air and explore the city. As always, Lancer was uncomfortable with this, preferring the tow of them to be cautious and stay hidden all times unless it was completely necessary.

But as always, the little homunculus got her way. After lunch, Lancer reluctantly accompanied her into the city. After aimlessly wandering through a strangely ominous park, the Master-Servant pair came upon a playground.

After her terrible night and being forced to maybe have to start reconsidering all she’d ever believed, Ilya wanted to simply have a little fun and act like the little girl she seemed to be.

Besides that, Lancer’s strength meant she gave some of the most amazing pushes on the swings a girl could ask for. Now if only the blonde didn’t tense up like a cornered animal anytime anyone came within a hundred feet of the swings.

Ilya had nothing to worry about of course. Lancer may not have killed her annoying doppleganger the other night, but there was no way there was any Servant stronger than King Arthur, especially King Arthur armed with two of his (her?) most legendary weapons. Even if the blonde seemed to worry about her skills, Ilya never did.

“Oh come on, _another_ kid?” a woman’s voice sighed in exasperation. “Am I the only grownup in this war or something.?”

Abruptly, Ilya’s swing came to a crashing halt against Lancer’s suddenly armored chest as a gauntlet-clad hand clasped her shoulder.

Ilya’s pale red eyes widened as they came into contact with a magenta haired woman in a dark suit, doing her best to look casual as she leaned against the empty playground’s slide.

“Identify yourself, magus,” Ilya said in a serious tone, doing her best to sound more intimidating than her high-pitched voice normally allowed. It was very hard to be intimidating when one was four and a half feet tall and sounded like they regularly inhaled helium. It was one of the many problems that came with being a homunculus.

“Bazett Fraga McRemitz, and I’ve been looking for you two all day,” the woman said with a grin as she straightened her pose. “Or to be more accurate, my Berserker has.”

Before either of the girls could react, a screaming, blue-clad warrior materialized from his astral form and charged at Lancer with the force of a freight train.

Her silvery spear materialized in her hands and blocked the incoming blow while her boots dug into the ground enough to give her the needed traction to repel her screaming attacker.

Berserker skidded back a few feet as a feral smile twisted his otherwise handsome features. “Finally,” his voice rasped in an eager tone.

A red mist appeared in his hand and quickly solidified into a wicked looking blood colored lance.

Lancer’s eyes widened in shock. “Identify yourself, Servant!” she called out in the authoritative tone of a king.

“I’m the guy who should’ve been Lancer,” the blue clad warrior roared before charging at the smaller Servant like a bull.

* * *

Arthuria grunted as she blocked the wide swinging arc of the bloody spear.

Berserker roared again and pressed forward, changing his technique and instead stabbing at her multiple times. While she managed to block or parry every blow, she knew she wouldn’t be able to meet his raw strength even with the aid of her Prana Burst technique. Perhaps it would be a different story if she had been summoned in the Saber Class, but battle was never the right time to concern oneself with what-ifs.

His lance crashed down against the middle of Rhongowennan with a thunderous crash. Even though the holy lance had been enchanted by Merlin and powerful enough to kill several men in a single throw, she still felt the silvery metal buckle imperceptibly from the power of her opponents strike.

Lancer looked up into the faintly glowing red eyes of her opponent. Whereas before his features had been a near feral expression of bloodlust, there now seemed to be a bizarre sense of questioning in his half-crazed eyes.

“Why are there two of you?” Berserker hissed.

Despite his stilted wording, Lancer knew what the blue-haired man meant. Clearly he had also fought her infuriating doppleganger at some point during the war as well.

Saber still didn’t know who her red-clad clone was supposed to be, but the fact that she didn’t appear to Berserker as a red-version of himself meant that her fears about Saber being some sort of shapeshifter were disproven.

“You’re wrong,” the king said, anger entering her voice. “There is no one else like me.”

Sending prana into her limbs, Lancer twirled her spear around, swinging it through an opening in his defenses and slamming it down in a hammer-blow against Berserker’s shoulder. The larger Servant buckled briefly beneath the unexpected force of the blow, clearly not expecting such force after deflecting her earlier, weaker strikes.

Lancer leapt back, wanting to end things quickly, before Berserker went out of control. The Berserker of the last Grail War may have been amazingly controlled despite his obvious madness, but Sir Lancelot’s nearly inhuman skills had always made him an exception to most rules. All other Berserkers were known for going out of control and eventually killing their Masters. What was to stop the mad warrior from doing the same to the tiny girl not 20 feet away from him?

There was no way Arthuria would let Ilya come to any harm while she was around.

* * *

Of course, what Lancer did not know was that in their very park, two concerned parties were paying very close attention to the white haired girl she was prepared to sacrifice herself for.

All around the park the chitinous sound of writhing bugs could be heard, the usual sounds of the night. Of course, what none of the fighting parties in the playground realized was that the thousand eyes of bugs belonged to an ancient mage who couldn’t keep the cold smile off his face  when he saw the Einzbern Master.

Meanwhile, a witch beneath the mountain watched the scene with a curious look on her face. Even from far away, she could sense an odd connection between the girl and the Grail System.

“My my, isn’t that interesting,” Caster smiled.

* * *


End file.
